


What We Choose

by mab_di



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Cousin Incest, Death, Loss, M/M, Minor Character Death, September 11 Attacks, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-23
Updated: 2013-08-23
Packaged: 2017-12-23 23:44:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 71,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/932497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mab_di/pseuds/mab_di
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern, non-magical AU. Merlin and Arthur had always been close, made closer by early loss. But as Merlin comes out to himself and to the people who matter most to him, he finds it increasingly difficult to dodge that the way he feels about Arthur is not what it should be. Arthur is his first cousin, almost a brother, and he’s the gravitational centre of Merlin’s life. As they grow up, Merlin finds he can't look at Arthur without it stirring something that makes him feel ashamed. When Arthur comes to spend a summer with Merlin and his mum in New York City, Merlin is forced to confront his feelings, and left baffled by Arthur’s. This story follows Merlin and Arthur from childhood, through late adolescence, and into adulthood: it follows them through a summer of sexual awakening, and leads them through harrowing loss, to finally confront what seems an impossible choice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first long fic and it truly took a village. First and foremost, thanks to Sillygoose for the amazing beta. I wouldn’t have finished this without her, and I’m so grateful for her thorough, thoughtful, and skillful help. She made the story so much better, and wherever I failed it was for lack of time or the sense to take her advice. Another huge thanks to Ememmyem for the last-minute and absolutely thorough brit-pick. A small army pre-read this story in various stages and gave me helpful feedback. Thanks especially to asya_ana, fr333bird, magnolia822, Im_not_a_lizard—for keeping on me to finish, but also for helping along the way. And thank you to the_muppet for love and hard labor making this fest happen.
> 
> Finally, enormous thanks to pkai7 for the art. I was thrilled that she chose this story and hope you enjoy the beautiful art she created. The art for this story is embedded in it, and is viewable in a separate post here: http://pkai7.livejournal.com/11113.html
> 
> For more notes, see the end of the story.

**Part I.**

**July 1992  
Cape Breton, Nova Scotia, CA**

Merlin watched the flex of Arthur’s calves as he ran ahead, kicking sand at his shins. Arthur disappeared in the sun’s glare, his body arched into an elegant dive, golden hair and bronze limbs melting into the bright light. He was gone with a splash, and Merlin pushed faster to get to the edge of the channel before Arthur left him behind.

[](http://s15.photobucket.com/user/pkaithoch/media/arthurocean.jpg.html)

“Merlin, sweetheart, be careful!” his mother called from up the beach. She and his aunt had entrusted him to Arthur’s care while they raked the sand for shells with Morgana in tow. He didn’t want to get waylaid by his mum, so he threw her a frantic wave of assurance before jumping in after Arthur. 

Merlin was a strong swimmer for his age. He was only seven, but he’d been swimming as long as he could walk. Arthur was nearly as fast. At ten, what Arthur lacked in technique, he made up for in strength. When Merlin breached the surface, he scanned ahead and saw Arthur’s sloppy strokes cutting above the water. The current was strong in Arthur’s direction, so he took a deep breath and dove, his arms extended and tight to his ears. The water was crystalline, clear as air. Arthur’s black swimming trunks flashed amidst the froth he’d created with his kicks a few metres ahead, and Merlin felt the tension ease from his body as he drew closer. 

A couple of forceful kicks and Merlin was again at Arthur’s heels. He put all of his strength into a long stroke of his arms until he was gliding beside his cousin. While he was an arrow, just below the surface, Arthur chopped above it, not yet aware of him. 

Merlin could feel the grip of the current strengthen as they got closer to the ocean. Now that he had Arthur beside him, he was able to absorb the otherworldly view. Last night, Arthur had woken him as he did every night to tell him what he was in for. Morgana, Arthur’s twin, got her own bedroom while Merlin and Arthur shared a bunk bed in the cabin where they passed their holiday. Merlin’s bedtime was earlier than theirs, but Arthur demanded his company each night before he drifted to sleep. Arthur would climb into Merlin’s bottom bunk with a torch and tell him stories about the day ahead. “It’s the coolest place to swim. You’ll see.” Naturally, Arthur had been there before. All firsts belonged to Arthur.

Arthur hadn’t exaggerated. The channel was bare but for sand, and the water glassy so that the sun’s light magnified through it. It was like swimming through a desert. The current was strong enough that Merlin could lie still with his limbs tight and his toes pointed and be swept along at Arthur’s speed. Arthur slowed himself down with his splashing. At some point, they’d be dumped into the ocean, but the end of the channel wasn’t yet in sight. Finally, he poked a finger into Arthur’s side, unable to wait any longer for his cousin’s attention. Arthur sputtered briefly and plunged his head under the surface with his eyes wide to give Merlin a warm smile, bubbles escaping on his exhale. 

Then Arthur grabbed Merlin’s childish hand in his and held tight, pointing them forward and drifting wordlessly with him towards the ocean.

 

**April 1999  
Cardiff, Wales, UK**

Merlin was thirteen, and mostly incognizant of the world outside his friends and his books and his chemistry set, when his aunt died. He’d worried about Arthur, briefly, but hadn’t spent time imagining what he’d find at the funeral. As soon as he climbed out of his mother’s cramped rented car, the reality of Arthur hit him. One minute there was his mother, sobbing silently against the wheel, trying to find the strength to face her sister’s death. And then she pulled herself together and squeezed his hand before she found her way out of the car. It had been an unusually long year since he and Arthur had last seen each other. Merlin’s mum and his aunt had been inseparably close, but as his aunt’s illness grew worse, his mum worked harder to shield him from it. It wasn’t difficult to do now that an ocean sat between them, but it was remarkable nonetheless. As soon as he saw Arthur, he realised how much he’d missed. 

Arthur was almost a man; his sculpted, athletic build was unmistakable under his dress shirt and trousers. He was like a statue, carved adoringly with attention to straight and firm lines, but with a crack through the centre betrayed by the stiff tilt of his neck and a sombre expression that suggested he was about to break apart. Arthur was leaning away from him against the bumper of his dad’s Mercedes, smoking. Merlin couldn’t see Arthur’s eyes, but he already knew. His instinct was to run to Arthur, but the sight of Arthur in pain provoked enough guilt to root him to the spot. 

“Merlin, you coming?” his mother sniffed. He looked up to see her opening an umbrella and gesturing for him to join her. Drizzle was beginning to wet the air. He looked between her and Arthur, who was running a hand through dishevelled hair, still turned away from the arriving mourners. The car park was only steps from the church, and he figured Arthur was going to hide out here as long as he could. Merlin had the impression of seeing the sun bleed from yellow to grey, and something sharp nicked his lungs at the thought of Arthur dimmed. He looked back to his mum.

“I’ll come in a minute,” Merlin answered a little louder, hoping Arthur would hear him. He wasn’t sure, but it seemed Arthur had shifted a fraction at the sound of his voice. His mum nodded and slouched off toward the church, leaving Merlin stranded under the darkening sky. He barely remembered his father, but he did remember the funeral, and he knew exactly what his life had been without him. 

Merlin cleared his throat as he approached for want of words to say. Arthur turned slowly, taking a heavy drag of his cigarette, and looked up from under his fringe at Merlin. 

“Hey, Merlin.” Arthur coughed over the gravel in his voice. “You grew.”

Merlin smiled at his shoes. “Yeah, I guess. A bit the last year.”

“You’ll be taller than I am one day.” Arthur returned a small grin, flicked his cigarette onto the damp pavement, and leaned away from the car to reach a hand out to Merlin. As Arthur ruffled his dark mop of hair, he smiled a little brighter, his eyes sad and red-rimmed, but with genuine warmth in his expression. Merlin felt lucky, the way he always had when Arthur pulled him into his orbit, looked at him like he was at the actual centre of it. 

“I’m sorry, Arthur,” he tried, not sure what else to say. He looked Arthur in the eye, knowing even in his juvenile way that it was important not to look away.

“I always felt sorry for you,” Arthur confessed, crossing his arms defensively in front of himself and leaning back against the car. “I’m such an idiot.” Merlin’s stomach turned with the words. He knew it, but he’d always wanted to believe Arthur’s attentions were more than pity. Arthur cleared his throat again, but still sounded hoarse when he added, “You’re better at this than I’ll ever be.”  
Merlin shook his head vigorously and patted Arthur’s elbow to get his attention. “No, Arthur. Uh. Um. It’s…it’s awful. I was younger. It was different, but it…it’s the worst. I’m…you’re gonna be okay.” 

Arthur’s face cracked suddenly, as though Merlin’s sympathy was the stroke of a hammer on his shabby façade. Arthur let out one forceful sob, and dug his knuckles into his eyes. He shuddered silently, much as Merlin’s mum had done in the car, except that Merlin knew what to do for Arthur. He took a step closer and laid his hand on Arthur’s shoulder, lightly repeating a lot of nothing about how sorry he was and it was going to be okay.

Arthur shook briefly and leaned into his hand, and then choked out, “God, Merlin, what am I going to do?” Merlin looked up at his cousin’s wrecked profile. “Who’s going to tell me what to do?”

“Morgana?” Morgana was no doubt already sitting in the front pew, taking care of Uther in her mother’s place. Merlin felt certain that no matter what Morgana felt at her mother’s loss, she wasn’t likely to show any cracks.

Arthur snorted through his tears. “You fucking bet she will, bossy cow.” Arthur finally sought out his eyes and laid his hand over his on his shoulder. “You’re the best, Merlin. Don’t leave me, okay?”

Merlin ducked his head, ears hot from the compliment. “Never, mate. We’re family.”

~o~O~o

Inside the church, Arthur took his place next to Morgana and his father in the front row, and Merlin wrapped his hand around his mother’s in the row just behind. It was a quiet service, in direct contrast to Igraine’s loud beauty in life. Afterward, at the wake, Merlin hung back while Arthur and Morgana received condolences from endless bobbing heads. He recognised some of Arthur’s mates in the crowd, all grown broad and strong as though a single turn around the sun had transformed them from children to men. Uther stood stoic, but blatantly destroyed, in the corner, and nodded blindly at anyone who tried to approach him with sympathy. Merlin noticed that only Hunith dared to touch Uther.

After a long hour of tea and canapés, Merlin slipped out of the restaurant into the cool, drying air to avoid the perils of self-pity that grew the longer he lingered. There was nothing to do but fist his hands deep into his trouser pockets, kick pebbles on the walk, and try not to think. He hadn’t been at it long when he heard the door behind him open and the unmistakable pitch of his cousins’ bickering approach.

Morgana was mid-scold when they came into view. “Arth— Oh, my. Is that our little cousin?” She came at him with her terrifying arms and wrapped him in a stiff hug. “What are you doing out here alone?”

“Just getting some air,” he answered over Morgana’s shoulder.

She pulled away to inspect him. “Do you—how old are you, thirteen?” Merlin nodded. “Do thirteen-year-olds need air?”

Morgana meant to be funny when she sounded haughtiest. The insulting tone wasn’t intentional. Merlin shrugged and offered her a sheepish smile. 

Morgana had grown impossibly beautiful since he’d last seen her. As twins, she and Arthur were a study in contrasts. They shared stunning good looks, but where Arthur was all inviting, golden warmth, ruggedly handsome, Morgana was a cold and austere beauty. There was some irony to the fact that fickle, egotistical Arthur inspired devotion in all those who knew him while Morgana, who was generous and mostly kind, inspired fear. It was more than merely her dark hair and pale skin; it was a quelling quality she’d inherited from Uther. She had her mother’s looks—appeared more Merlin’s sister than Arthur’s—but she was unmistakably Uther’s daughter. 

Merlin had a flash of pain at the thought of Arthur alone in a house with Uther and Morgana. Arthur would be terribly lonely without his mother.

Merlin trusted Morgana’s love, though, and knew it was simple, familial affection. She loved him without seeking anything in return. He glanced at Arthur, who was beaming at him through bloodshot eyes. Arthur needed him. Morgana didn’t need anything from him. 

“You’re awfully tall and handsome for thirteen, Merlin.” He knew how gangly he’d grown, but for some reason didn’t mind being patronised by his cousin. 

“I’m almost fourteen,” he said, averting his eyes back to the pebbles he’d been worrying under his shiny black shoes.

“Yes, of course,” answered Morgana, as she continued to take his measure. “Even so, I’d say you’re frightfully beautiful.”

He heard the shuffle of gravel before he looked up to see Arthur pinch his sister’s arm. “Oi, don’t be ridiculous. He’s not a girl!”

“You’re such a child, Arthur. Merlin knows what I mean. Look at him. He looks shockingly like Igraine.”

Merlin’s throat tightened and he couldn’t help a worried glance at Arthur, who looked for a brief second like he’d been punched in the gut. But Arthur shook the expression of grief quickly and nodded. 

“He does.” Arthur’s words were clipped, not angry. “He does.”

Merlin nodded. He knew it was true. He felt wrong all of a sudden. “I’m sorry,” he said, because he had no idea what to say.

Morgana reached out and took his warm hand in her cold one and forced him to look up at her. “Don’t be absurd, Merlin. Mum was beautiful. We’re lucky we have her in you.” She elbowed Arthur, who was standing close now, so that the three of them formed a tight triangle. “Aren’t we, Arthur?”

Arthur elbowed back, hard, and pulled him into an affectionate headlock. “Damn right.” Then Arthur huffed quietly into the back of his head, “Merlin belongs to us.” 

Merlin rested against Arthur’s chest for a moment, not struggling. It was true. Truer possibly than Arthur knew, making it all the harder to explain how foreign Arthur smelled to him. He was so distinctly Arthur and not Merlin, and not an extension of his own blood and skin despite their relation. Arthur was the closest thing he had to a brother, and they were nothing alike. 

Morgana turned on her heel and began to head back to the restaurant. “Let our cousin go, Arthur. We need him breathing. You can bring him home with us.” Arthur’s arms fell away and his elbow chucked him in the ribs before he was left to follow Arthur back into the wake.

~o~O~o

Merlin and his mother were to stay for a week, owing to the distance they’d travelled and the weight of the loss. Hunith had worried over his missing school, and, frankly, so had he. But now they were here it seemed obvious they must stay. Uther’s inability to cry or communicate much of anything meant they were left to make themselves at home with little direction. The house was big enough to accommodate Merlin and Hunith in rooms of their own, but Arthur had commanded him to share his room, and Uther wasn’t around to set this breach in hospitality to rights. Merlin had always shared Arthur’s room anyhow. He’d never wanted to sleep anywhere else. Teetering on the edge of puberty, it was only beginning to dawn on him that some privacy might have been nice. And a bed, since Arthur had no intention of sharing his and happily required Merlin to sleep on the floor at the foot of his bed in a sleeping bag.

When he meekly suggested they might both be more comfortable if he sought out a guest room down the hall, Arthur shot back, “Don’t be daft. How will I talk to you if you’re down the hall?”

Merlin had no illusions that time or even Igraine’s death would change Arthur. He knew what the week would be like. Arthur would disappear with his mates, perhaps to school, perhaps elsewhere. He’d be out late. He’d be seen very little. But when Arthur did appear, he’d expect Merlin to be waiting for him. He’d occasionally drag Merlin along. He’d treat him like a child and bully him in front of his mates, and he’d expect Merlin to take it in good humour. Or, he’d return home and wake Merlin to tell him stories from the adventures of the day and bask in Merlin’s attention.

It was special, then, to have an evening in with Arthur and Morgana after the funeral. He expected Arthur to pull himself together, put away the wrecked countenance for the night, and get as far away from the house as possible. But when Uther and Hunith retired early, Arthur and Morgana led Merlin down to the lounge in the basement where Uther kept his booze and slightly weathered sofas, and ordered him to drink. He was spent after the red-eye flight from the U.S. and the long drive from Heathrow to Cardiff, but there’d be plenty of time to sleep once Arthur left the next morning. Sandwiched between Arthur and Morgana on the accommodating upholstery, Merlin sipped at a bottle of Heineken and tried not to make a bitter face.

“Want some lemonade in that, mate?” Arthur kicked his thigh with a stocking foot, his back against one arm of the sofa. Apart from small sips of champagne, Merlin had no experience with alcohol. 

“Nah, I like it,” Merlin lied and raised his bottle, testing a larger swallow.

“Leave him be, Arthur. You weren’t swigging ale at his age, either.” Despite her words, Morgana regarded him with something like a condescending smirk. “Go ahead, Merlin. Take your time.”

An hour later, the three of them were sprawled on the floor, looser, lighter, and flipping quarters into a low tumbler on the coffee table. It was the most exotic thing Merlin had to offer from America, and he grinned stupidly at Arthur’s enthusiasm as he explained the rules. He didn’t mention that he’d never played before himself. He’d observed often enough: Saturday nights at his best mate Will Archer’s apartment when the parents were away. Will’s older brother, John, held raucous parties that he and Will watched from their perch on the staircase. Merlin didn’t much like John or his friends, but it gave him a glimpse at the confounding behaviour that sets in through the teen years. And he’d picked up the rules to several drinking games.

“This is brilliant,” said Arthur as he smoothly hopped a quarter into the glass with a _plunk_. 

“I blame you, Merlin. You’ve managed to unearth his one talent. He’s going to be insufferable.”

“You’re just sore that I got all the athletic ability in the family. Go ahead, Sis. Your drink.” 

Morgana rolled her eyes at Merlin and took a modest swig. Arthur swiftly bounced another quarter into the glass, _clink_ , before she’d even put her bottle down and nodded at Merlin. “Drink up, mate.” Merlin’s tongue already felt big in his mouth and his lips fuzzy and numb. He was drinking as little as he could get away with, but each new swallow swam to his head.

“I think a shandy’s not such a bad idea, Merlin. You can’t weigh eight stone. If you start puking your guts up I’m leaving you in Arthur’s care, and I promise you don’t want that.”

“Merlin’s holding his own,” said Arthur, who was the only one truly holding his own. Neither Merlin nor Morgana had had any luck getting a quarter in the glass yet.

“I’m fine,” Merlin promised, enjoying the cotton tangled into his thoughts, but vaguely aware that Morgana’s dread scenario was not an unlikely one. “I’m good,” he giggled.

“Oi, giggling’s a bad sign.” Arthur cuffed him at the back of the neck and shook him lightly. “Morgana’s right. Don’t want to turn you off the drink before your time. You’re gonna need the stuff later, when you want to talk to girls.” 

Merlin felt a familiar roll in his stomach, a sickly flutter in his chest. He pulled away gently from Arthur’s grasp, the brush of Arthur’s fingertips prickling his scalp, and huffed out an annoyed laugh. “Whatever.”

“Yeah, whatever, mate. One more round, okay? I’ll even forfeit my turn.” Arthur grabbed the last quarter off the table and pressed it into his clammy palm. 

Merlin kept his eyes fixed on his hand, the coin smooth and cool in contrast to the warmth of Arthur’s fingers, and concentrated on pushing the thing that was clawing at his chest down, down. He could feel the sick thing rising and twisting up with the happy buzz he’d felt moments earlier. Together they mingled into something dark. And then he caged it, looking up to meet Morgana and Arthur’s worried expressions. He gave them a weak smile and lobbed the quarter far wide of the glass. 

The quarter landed silently on the rug, and for a brief moment Merlin was certain he was turned inside out so that everything wrong on the inside was flaunting itself for his cousins. He wanted to flee, but lacked the coordination to organise his limbs into movement. The comfortable sludge in his veins from the alcohol burned away in the inexplicable shame making its way through them now. He slumped down, shrugging his shoulders at the miss, and fumbled for the coin, hoping to find something to say.

“It might be time to call it a night,” Morgana said kindly. “Arthur’s relentless, and you need some rest, Sweetie.” Merlin looked up at her and tried to convey gratitude in the twist of his mouth. He couldn’t bear to look at Arthur.

“Ehm, sure, yeah. I’m pretty tired.”

And then Merlin felt Arthur’s hand on his shoulder from behind him. “I’ll go up with you, mate. I’m knackered myself. It’s kind of pointless trying to pretend we didn’t…” Arthur’s voice cracked. “You know.” Merlin turned and reeled at the sight of Arthur, the mask fallen and the pain right at the surface. “You know…bury…bury Mum today.” Arthur worked to get the words out like it mattered he could say them. 

Merlin felt his head tumble with the sudden shift from shame to sorrow to regret. He was confused. Is this what all that weight was about a moment ago? It must have been. Because how could he be worried about anything else?

~o~O~o

Merlin needed permission to sleep. Years of sharing a room with Arthur had him conditioned. If he drifted off first, he knew to expect to be woken by a foot to the face or an insistent, “ _Merlin_ , are you _listening_ to me?” All Merlin heard now was the _shush-shhh_ of his sleeping bag as he turned to get comfortable on the floor, and the occasional soft exhale from Arthur on the bed. The journey, nearly twenty-four hours awake, the sadness, the alcohol, and everything in him clamouring for attention had knocked him almost senseless. He fought to keep his eyes cracked open in the dark, knowing he’d be asleep within seconds if he closed them all the way. He didn’t want to leave Arthur. He needed to hear the reassuring pull of Arthur’s sleeping breaths. Instead, there was Arthur’s restless tension vibrating through the room.

And then, a quiet choke. A sniffle. Merlin stiffened and held his breath, not wanting to hear but needing to be sure of what he was hearing. For a moment there was silence, and then the muffled sound of cries hammering at the back of Arthur’s throat. He sat up in his sleeping bag and craned his neck over the end of the bed. In the dark he could make out only the lump that was Arthur, unsure whether he was curled on himself defensively or crying into the open air. 

“Arthur?” Merlin’s tongue was thick in his mouth when he spoke, the alcohol tamping down his nerves. No answer, but there was a brief quiet and then another sniffle. “Arthur?”

Arthur flopped and Merlin thought he’d turned onto his back. Arthur’s only response was a loud exhale and a quick suck of air through his nostrils. “Arthur, are you okay?” He hated asking stupid questions. 

In the silence that followed, Merlin thought maybe he’d imagined it. Arthur wouldn’t—didn’t ever—and then like the chair that finally pulls apart under too much weight, falling one hobbled leg after the other, Arthur broke apart. His cries were high-pitched from restraint but cut through the dark, wrenching Merlin’s buzz-heavy limbs from the sleeping bag. Merlin stumbled as he kicked it off his legs and felt his way to the side of the bed, leaning in. He shivered briefly in his boxers as he adjusted to the loss of heat from the sleeping bag.

“Hey, Arthur. Arthur. It’s okay.” His eyes were adjusting now. Arthur was turned away from Merlin on his side, his hands covering his face, his body convulsing in a way that suggested something deeper than the coughing, jittering cries making their way out. Merlin placed an awkward hand on the rise of Arthur’s shoulder and perched at the edge of the bed. He tried to keep his thoughts trained on the moment, on hearing Arthur’s grief and being there for him. Alcohol and exhaustion helped to keep Merlin’s mind from spinning away, but instead he felt himself sinking into someplace too calm, too comfortable with Arthur’s pain. It warmed him, somehow. That wasn’t right, was it? He knew the feeling from the inside out—the way the mind swirled around the loss, or the shame, or the hurt, like a whirlpool around its empty centre; the way the mind ached for what was gone, or what was wrong; the way that ache ripped through the body and cried its way out of you. He’d cried like this. Rarely over his father. He’d been so young. But over his father, too. Over things he couldn’t name. Once after he’d interrupted his mother raining tears into the frying pan on the hob, and realised he wasn’t enough to hold off her sadness. 

He didn’t want Arthur to suffer, but it made Merlin feel connected to him. It made him feel warm, anyway. It was reassuring, somehow. It told him what Arthur could never say about himself. 

So Merlin sat, silently, and waited. He didn’t try to talk Arthur away from it. He didn’t do more than sit with his hand on Arthur’s heaving shoulder and feel grateful to be there.

Some part of him was falling asleep while he remained physically alert, upright for his cousin. He thought Arthur might eventually quieten and drift off through his tears, and then he’d have to find the energy to crawl back to the floor. It had been five, ten, fifteen minutes? It seemed a long time. It seemed Arthur must cry himself out soon. And then, just when the shaking form under him stilled minutely, just as he was about to lift his hand and reassure Arthur that he’d be okay, Arthur turned and flung himself at Merlin. One harsh sob escaped in his movement and then Arthur was buried against Merlin, his arms curled around Merlin’s waist, his wet, tear- and sweat-soaked head weeping into Merlin’s lap. 

“ _Merlin_.” Arthur’s voice was unnatural, a thin, pubescent squeak out of his heavy frame. “Ah, fecking Christ, Merlin,” he choked into Merlin’s thighs. 

Merlin’s earlier calm fled. Adrenaline drove through him, pulse pounding and body thrumming with the weight of his cousin’s heated distress wrapping itself around him. This was different. He didn’t know this. This loss of composure. This unseemly grief. It scared him. Maybe thrilled him a little. But Merlin’s own tears began to prick like the grief was passing from Arthur, where he’d pressed himself into Merlin’s lap, and through Merlin’s skin. 

Crying was strange and unexpected, mostly because he was crying for the wrong reasons. But he cried quietly, and hunched over Arthur awkwardly, not sure where to put his hands, moved to be closer but not used to touching these parts of his body to someone else’s. Merlin knew hugs from his mother, but also slapping, gripping hugs from Arthur and some of his mates. He knew Morgana’s hands on his shoulders when she kissed his cheeks. He knew hands pressed into his sweaty palms to shake hello. And he was beginning to know the feel of his own hands on his body. 

This was none of those touches. This was all of them, and something different. It was the full press of his body into a physical moment, so that the crying and the sadness and the warmth of Arthur was in his muscles and on his skin and in his heated ears, and around his waist and down to his thighs; there was too much of all of it. Merlin’s thoughts raced from the depth of Arthur’s sadness to the prosaic sensation of wet, hot tears in his lap, and back to his father and aunt until he was circling himself and Arthur with a jumble of memories and questions he couldn’t answer. His hands found Arthur in the thick of his hair and the muscles of his shoulder and he willed his inexperienced fingers to offer some comfort.

Arthur grunted at Merlin’s touch, and the tears and hiccoughing sobs eased moment by moment. Merlin’s own tears dried and he calmed finally, his thoughts settling into nothing but an exhausted awareness of the ache and stiffness of his body. He knew when Arthur was finally asleep, head still buried in Merlin’s lap, because all of a sudden Merlin was a child alone in the dark. He extracted himself gently and returned to the cool of his sleeping bag, not minding the floor and barely remembering his name when he shut his eyes to sleep.

~o~O~o

He woke to a weight on his back and a muffled curse, then a light kick to the ribs. “Up, you lazy git!”

“Whathfgg—” Merlin’s mind wouldn’t follow his body into consciousness, so he thrashed to get Arthur off of him while keeping his eyes shut, refusing to let go of the sleep clawing behind them.

“You’ve slept half the day away, Merlin. We’ve got things to do, people to see.” Merlin almost never said no to Arthur, but there was no conscious choice now. 

He rolled onto his back and flung his forearm over his eyes to shield them from the sunlit room. “Didn’t sleep for a day, did I? Travelling. Then you and your stupid game. Can’t.”

“You can’t tell me you were drunk off a few sips of Heineken, Merlin. The only way to beat jet lag is to barrel through. No point in making up the sleep. Adjust. You’ve got to adjust.”

“Easyforyoutosay.” Merlin felt the futility of each slurred word as his eyes cracked behind his arm and he pushed the weight of exhaustion away.

Arthur was gone with an imperative, “You’ve got ten minutes. Meet you downstairs.” And Merlin didn’t spare a thought for the boy who’d cried into his lap last night. That boy was gone.

Today it was his Arthur, the one Merlin knew the best. The one who demanded Merlin trail after him and his mates, who treated him like a shadow. Merlin was expected to be there, but never to leap into three dimensions. They met up with Leon and Percy, who had been around since Merlin could remember. They were mildly subdued on Arthur’s behalf, he thought, but otherwise there was no mention of the funeral or the sadness of the previous day. He was dragged to the pitch and sat in the grass while Arthur threw himself into the dance of being Arthur. There were other boys, all of them in orbit around Arthur even as they competed with each other for the football and the glory. Merlin sat plucking grass, and for the first time in his life discovered he was mildly ashamed by how simply in awe he was of his cousin.

On the walk home, Arthur wanted him close while he bragged. He hauled Merlin under his arm while he retold the game Merlin had only half-watched. Arthur used to press Merlin to join him in sport, but now he teased him lightly for his ineptitude and bookishness and no longer bothered to invite him into the game. “I was brilliant from the corner. Did you see, Merlin?” Leon and Percy groaned while Merlin smiled like an imbecile at Arthur, feeling happy and a little bit wrong for it at the same time.

Later, supper was a sombre affair; Uther was installed at the head of the table but nonetheless absent in his grief. Morgana reached out occasionally to pat the crook of his arm. Hunith laid a hand on Merlin’s shoulder as she attempted idle chatter around the events of their day. Arthur was surly and nothing like the prince of the field he was only hours before. They got through it, somehow.

Merlin felt his own sadness about things he couldn’t understand pulling at him by the time Arthur said a breezy _g’night_ and headed out to see his mates, leaving his little cousin to bed. It was Saturday night and Morgana had gone out as well. Merlin suspected she’d gone to find someone to talk to. He didn’t know how to talk to anyone, much less Morgana, but he wished he did. 

Hunith was good at sensing when Merlin wanted to be alone, so he found himself in his sleeping bag at nine p.m., not anything like the tired he’d felt all day. Alone in Arthur’s room, his reasons for being on the floor when there were at least two empty beds down the hall seemed thin at best. Would Arthur really mind—would he even notice—if Merlin wasn’t there when he flopped into bed later that night? Merlin thought about the way Arthur had needed him the night before for the first time all day, not sure what it meant. Maybe nothing at all. It just was. And it passed, like all moments with Arthur. He was getting too old to lie at the foot of Arthur’s bed. 

Still, he lay there, unable to make a decision. He’d brought his schoolbooks and made an attempt at _Animal Farm_ , but his mind wandered and eventually he drifted, only vaguely noticing that the overhead light was still on.

Merlin woke with a start and sat up before he put together where he was. In Arthur’s room, in a sleeping bag, book folded under his elbow. The light was still on, and he was alone. He heard movement from downstairs and realised someone must have just come in. He peered around the end of Arthur’s bed and squinted at the digital clock on his bedside table. One twenty-two a.m. Arthur, then.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was scooting out of his sleeping bag, tucking it and his pillow under one arm, book in hand, and heading towards the closest guest room. He shut off Arthur’s light as he went and tiptoed quickly to the first closed door, holding his breath as he slipped inside. The impulse was unfamiliar—the sudden need to be away from Arthur, to have his own space. He was surprised by the force of it, but followed it, panting with the sudden exertion out of sleep. The door clicked behind him and he felt his way in the dark through a room he hardly knew. It was small, it seemed, the air still and cold the way neglected spaces get. His shins hit a bed, and as he sat he was relieved to find it was made. Letting his bundle drop to the floor, he tucked himself in quickly, catching his breath in the dark and listening for Arthur’s footsteps on the stairs. Merlin’s heart was thumping and all of a sudden he felt juvenile—even more so than he had lying pointlessly on Arthur’s floor. Maybe he expected Arthur to come after him? It was silly. He didn’t quite know what he wanted, just that he had needed to be somewhere else.

Merlin waited, but no one came upstairs, and eventually he decided Arthur must have gone to the basement to drink or watch TV. The thrill of flight wore off and he grew sleepy again.

The next time he woke it was to a muffled voice down the hall, and then clearer, approaching, a hissed, “ _Merlin?_ ” Merlin stiffened and rolled away from the door, pulling the duvet up to his nose. Arthur was turning the knob within seconds and sounded as though he’d fallen into the room. “Merlin? _Whatthefuck?_ S’that you?” An overhead light clicked on and Merlin winced, burying his head into the pillow and groaning involuntarily at the assault. “Merlin?”

“Wha?” Merlin’s tone was softer than it was in his head. “Light, Arthur. _Please?_ ” The room went dark, and he felt Arthur behind him at the side of the bed, heard him kick the sleeping bag. “M’tired, s’late. What do you want?” He remained curled into himself with the cover high on his face and his head turned into his pillow.

“Jesus, Merlin. What are you doing alone in here? I thought maybe you’d been kidnapped.” Arthur’s speech was slightly slurred, but he was more lucid than Merlin at the moment.

Merlin lifted his head fractionally. “Wanted a bed. What’s the point of sleeping on the floor when you’re not even there?” Merlin was almost too tired to notice how unlikely this was. He never stood up for himself with Arthur. Not when something really mattered to Arthur.

“Aw, were you sad I went out?” Arthur’s tone was condescending, but there was a hint of regret.

“No,” he said, too quickly. Merlin didn’t sound convincing to himself, but that really wasn’t it. “S’fine for you to go out. I just don’t see why I should be sleeping on the floor when there’s beds all over this house.” As he spoke, he felt himself growing more alert. He groaned a little at the thought of lying alone in this room, awake, after Arthur inevitably stormed out. 

The bed sank with Arthur’s weight and the brush of a hand over his shoulder. “Hey, Merlin, sorry. I, um, it’s fine. I just don’t get to see you that much. And we always—you’re like my brother. I…didn’t think about the floor.” Merlin rolled onto his back and looked up at Arthur. The room let in almost no light, so he could only make out the lines of Arthur’s face. Arthur’s expression was lost in the dark. They sat silent for a moment while Arthur picked at the duvet.

Arthur was never at a loss for words, but he seemed it now. Merlin thought he caught the faint whiff of alcohol, something stronger than beer perhaps, and figured Arthur’s softness could be put down to that. Eventually Arthur cleared his throat, adding quietly, “You’re the most important, Merlin. The most important person. I never get to—I just need you around. I miss when we were young.”

Merlin was moved in a simple way by the words. They didn’t hold any deep meaning, they just were. It was the same for him. “I’m still young,” he smiled. Arthur shoved gently at his shoulder.

“You know what I mean, you twat. You never used to complain about the floor.”

“No, that’s true.”

“So, um, you could share my bed. I never offered because I’m told I’m clingy in my sleep, and I figured you’d be happier on the floor. But that way we could talk, and you’d have the bed to yourself all morning, since you’re such a lazy git.” Merlin wasn’t sure he knew what “clingy” meant, but he didn’t have the words to say no to Arthur again.

“Sure.” He hauled himself up, grabbing the pillow and sleeping bag off the floor, feeling around for his book in the dark. “Shite.”

“What?”

“I dropped my book somewhere. I’ll get it in the morning.”

“Such a good lad, Merlin.” Arthur took the sleeping bag from him and pushed him out of the guestroom and down the hall.

Merlin climbed into the side of the bed Arthur always left free, and hugged the edge of it as best he could. He and Arthur had shared beds when they were much younger, had fallen asleep together on the single bunk in Cape Breton more than once, but this felt different. Arthur was a man now, practically. Merlin fought not to think about the things that scared him the most and mumbled “g’night” when Arthur finally stopped hitting his pillow and settled into the bed.

Their backs were to each other, and Arthur swung an arm behind him, hitting Merlin’s hip. “’Night, Merlin.”

Quiet crept into the space between them, and Merlin felt his body pulling heavier into the mattress, aware of Arthur’s steady breathing, neither of them quite asleep. And then, so softly he might have imagined it, Arthur said into the room, “And thanks, you know. For last night.”

“Mmhm.” And he slept.

~o~O~o

“Clingy” apparently meant that Arthur wrapped his entire body around whatever happened to share his bed. Merlin woke to grey light and the heat and weight of Arthur draped over his back, Arthur’s leg curled over his thigh and an arm locked around his chest. It was twice in as many days that Arthur had unsettled him with touch, however unconscious it was. Merlin’s head was clear this time. Though he was a bit unsure how to extract himself, the panic that had been rising in him so frequently these days wasn’t there. The heat was stifling, but the weight of Arthur was comforting. The rise and fall of Arthur’s chest against his back reminded him of something that was new and old at the same time.

He wasn’t nearly ready to get up and didn’t want to disturb Arthur, but sweat was beading where the skin of Arthur’s chest met the skin of his back. He thought about rolling out and planting his feet on the floor, but he was exhausted by the thought. He decided to give Arthur a good shove, attempting to roll Arthur off his back. The move backfired and Arthur pulled him closer. It took a good three seconds for Merlin’s brain to catch up with his body’s reaction to the contact, and the moment it did he turned into frantic motion, prying Arthur’s arms from around his chest and scooting the lower part of his body away as best he could. Arthur groaned and finally loosened his grip, slowly rolling away onto his back. Merlin turned onto his stomach and pressed himself into the mattress. 

Merlin counted off to himself in the silence while Arthur snuffled into consciousness. “W’time is it?”

Merlin mumbled a non-response.

“I choke you?”

“What? No.” He felt his body begin to relax into his cousin’s easy tone.

“Have done before, I’m told. Clingy. Sorry.”

“S’okay.”

“I think I have to go back to school tomorrow.”

“Yeah?”

“Probably should. I missed last week. No point in—” 

“You could take a few more days.”

“Yeah. I think I should go back.” Arthur rolled toward him and poked him in the back of the head until he was looking at Arthur over his shoulder. Merlin’s body was still curled away on itself. “Will you be okay if I’m gone all day?”

Merlin grumbled. “’Course. I’ve got work to do. I’m not a baby.”

Arthur used his fingers to swipe at Merlin’s forehead, lifting his fringe out of his eyes. He held his hand there at the top of Merlin’s head fondly. “No, you’re not. Not quite anymore.” Merlin couldn’t make sense of Arthur’s expression, but it made him feel odd, like someone was twirling ribbons in his veins. It was a few seconds at most, but Arthur looked him in the eye and Merlin felt like he was bigger than his small self for a moment.

~o~O~o

The remainder of the week stretched like still water, days filled keeping up with school assignments and taking walks with Hunith, who missed Cardiff and her sister, and was also desperate not to be there. She’d moved them to America only a few years earlier, but it almost felt to him like his years in Cardiff were a dream. There was nothing familiar, apart from Arthur and Morgana and his uncle. Arthur’s friends and Arthur’s world. Merlin had shared it all once, but that seemed impossible now. For Hunith, getting away from Wales had meant getting away from the things she’d lost when his father died, and he had always understood that somehow, even though she’d never explained. With Igraine gone, he wondered if Hunith would ever bring them back again.

Merlin panicked when it occurred to him he might not see Arthur and Morgana again for a long time. Hunith was fond of her niece and nephew, not likely to abandon them with their mother passed, but he figured it wouldn’t be easy for her to come back here.

“Will we visit again?” he tried to ask casually as they were strolling the shops. Hunith had seemed distracted, but as soon as he asked it she looked at him as though she understood.

“I don’t know, Merlin. Perhaps not for a while.” Hunith stopped on the pavement in front of a bakery to take in the smell, and he fought his need to protest. _But Arthur, and Morgana!_ “You’ll see your cousins sooner than you expect, I think.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not sure, Merlin, but Arthur at least…I imagine we’ll be seeing him soon.”

“He’s going to be miserable here. I mean, Morgana’s sad, but Arthur…He was so close to Auntie. I think it’s worse for him. ”

“Yes. I expect so.” Hunith slung an arm over his shoulder and propelled them forward again. “Not sure how you got so sensitive, my boy. Arthur’s lucky to have you.”

The Friday night before they left, Arthur and Morgana stayed in, and for the first time all week the whole family sat in the lounge after dinner and kept each other company. Uther had begun to speak again. He’d always been stiff in Merlin’s eyes, but now he seemed rigid and suffering at the same time, trapped by his own diffidence. Even the bluster he sometimes used to keep people at arm’s length was gone. Uther had been nothing but kind and loving towards his wife. Merlin had always marvelled at it, the way he took care of her, in contrast with the cold disapproval he aimed at Arthur so often. He was quite sure Uther loved his son, but he couldn’t manage a comfortable way to show it. Morgana sat in an in-between place in his affections. There was more natural affinity there, to be sure, as Morgana had never been as warm as Arthur, or even her mother. Uther was more at ease with Morgana’s careful manner than Arthur’s reckless one. But Morgana was not her mother, and Merlin hoped that Morgana would get out of the house as soon as she was old enough, just as he expected Arthur to do. 

“Your mother tells me you excel at the sciences, Merlin. There’s fine work to do if you apply yourself.” Uther rarely addressed him directly, and he couldn’t help a glance at Arthur. If his cousin was bothered, he didn’t show it. He looked warm for the first time all evening.

“I don’t know if I excel, but I love chemistry so far. The year’s just started, really.” 

“Hunith tells me they’ve bumped you up a year to allow you to take chemistry and biology. I like to see striving in a lad.” Uther’s eyes went to Arthur as he spoke, but Arthur was nothing like his usual glowering self under Uther’s gaze. Instead Arthur beamed at him.

“Merlin’s special. We all know that.” Merlin shook his head and tried to laugh but Arthur’s tone was proud and too genuine.

“He always has been,” Morgana added with a nod to her brother. 

And then Hunith turned the conversation back to the small changes she’d noted around Cardiff, and Merlin let Arthur’s affectionate gaze wrap around him in the last hours they had. 

Later, he and Arthur lay on their backs in Arthur’s bed and talked until their tongues were heavy and their words slurred. Arthur told stories from school of a teacher whose skirts were too short, and of small victories on the football pitch, and he didn’t speak of his mother. He listened and laughed and thought _you’re the one who’s special._ Only when Arthur seemed finally about to drift off did he turn on his side to face him.

“Merlin?”

“Yeah?”

There was a long silence and Merlin tapped his pinkie against the sheet absentmindedly.

“I don’t know. I just. I wish you could stay. I feel like…it’s going to be worse. It’s going to be more real when you go. I think I don’t miss her as much with you here.”

“I wish I could stay, too.” Merlin wasn’t quite sure he meant that, but he had no better words to say what he felt. It had always been that way for him, too. Not that he missed his father actively, but he always felt less alone in the world when he was with his cousin.

“It’s so far away. America. Maybe I’ll come visit.”

“I hope you do.”

They fell asleep with their foreheads close. Later, when Arthur used him as a human teddy bear, he was glad, and tried not to think about this ending.


	2. Chapter 2

**PART II**

**June 2001  
Brooklyn, NY**

It took the full weight of Merlin’s shoulder to jam his hinky locker door shut. He made a mental note as the latch caught to request a different locker next year. He should probably make a trip to the office today, before school let out for the summer, but he was too jittery to focus on mundane tasks right now.

From behind him, a body knocked into the locker next to his just as he was turning away to leave. “Is that it then?” came Gwen’s friendly voice. “Rather unceremonious end to the year, huh?”

He towered over Gwen, having grown faster in the last six months than he could have anticipated. She looked like she’d just come from PE; she was in shorts and an oversized T-shirt that hid her attractive shape. Dark hair curled into her eyes where it had escaped the ponytail, and she grinned at him in that tight-lipped way she had that was no less joyful for want of teeth. “I’m so ready for the summer. Skip the ceremony. Let’s go.”

Gwen bumped his shoulder and then hooked her elbow through his and dragged him down the hall toward the closest exit. “C’mon, Will’s waiting. We’re going to head over to the park for a bit.” 

“Aren’t you gonna change?” His Welsh accent had all but disappeared from Merlin’s speech in the past year or so, but he was self-conscious of it sometimes, aware that he didn’t sound quite like himself. 

“I’ll stop at home on the way.” He loved Gwen’s careless approach to plans, knowing that the afternoon would stretch into an evening at someone’s apartment. That there’d be a party somewhere to mark the end of the year. There’d be alcohol. They were seniors now, officially. Gwen sounded casual, but she would be dressed anything but. He appreciated the ease of it all, even if he didn’t feel at ease today.

Merlin let himself be tugged along by Gwen, out into the throng of teens on the steaming pavement in front of the high school. He had mentioned to Gwen and Will that his cousin was coming from Wales this summer, but so off-handedly, and such a long time ago, he knew they’d forgotten. For some reason he hadn’t told them Arthur was arriving this afternoon. He wasn’t sure why he’d kept it to himself. Maybe because he almost didn’t believe it. Or maybe because he didn’t want to share it. Either way, his somersaulting stomach wouldn’t be ignored much longer. Merlin’s hand rubbed over his mobile in his front pocket as it did every time he let Arthur crowd into his thoughts.

Will pulled Merlin away from Gwen as soon as he spotted them and hauled him into a bear hug. “We did it, dude!” Merlin smiled over Will’s shoulder at Gwen. “We’re fucking seniors now! Whatdya say to that, kiddo?” Will pushed him out at arm’s length to see his response.

Merlin was distantly excited. It was what he wanted: to grow up. To get out of high school, mostly. He was young, only sixteen, and he’d be heading to college in a year, the promised land of his imagination. The time and place where he could let go of the secrets that made him sweat in his sheets at night. Every step toward that end was welcome. He couldn’t help but beam back at Will’s ruddy smile, pull Gwen under his arm, and enjoy an exuberant jump of joy with them. 

On Gwen’s stoop, Merlin and Will fell into lazy chatter about the evening’s plans while they waited for her to dress. It was brutally hot, mid-June in Brooklyn feeling more like mid-July. His loose jeans trapped the heat against his roasting skin, and he wished he’d worn shorts. Will was dressed typically in board shorts and a tank top, looking like he was ready to step onto the beach instead of into Fort Greene Park. 

“You gonna change, man?” Will looked at him like he was a lunatic in combat boots and jeans. “You know wherever we end up tonight there’ll be, like, one hundred people and no AC. C’mon, show us your scrawny legs.”

Merlin hated thinking about clothes, but he began running through wardrobe choices in his head. It was fucking hot. The sounds of Friday afternoon traffic on the tight St. James Place, trucks heading for DeKalb, were like stuffing around the thin thread of conversation. 

The first tinny notes of classical music sounded from Merlin’s pocket, and he startled at the sound he’d been on edge for all day. 

“S’that your mom?” Will asked, casting his attention to the two girls in front of the bodega across the street who looked just about Will’s type. Short skirts, brown skin, glossy lips. 

Merlin tugged the phone out of his pocket and registered his mother’s ID. “Hey.” 

“Hey? Really, Merlin? Is that what happens when you move to Brooklyn? Hey?”

There was a trace of Uncle Uther in Arthur’s mocking voice, Merlin noticed as he gathered his wits. “I thought you were my mum.” 

“Is that any way to speak to your mum?”

“Well, you’re in America now. What’s up?” It was a dumb question.

“What’s up is that I’m here and you’re not. What’s up is that you’d better have plans, because I didn’t fly across the bloody ocean to sip tea with my aunt. No offense Hunith, of course.” The last was said in aside, and Merlin could picture his mother smiling indulgently at her nephew. Arthur sounded breathy and excited, perhaps even a little nervous. It was a tone that made Merlin’s own exhale wobble. 

“Well, it’s the last day of school. There’ll be a party tonight. I wasn’t sure you’d be up for it after the long trip…” He trailed off, getting caught in Will’s questioning stare. Merlin mouthed, “My cousin is here,” letting the inadequate words hang for the moment.

“Who do you think this is, Merlin? Also, who the hell are you, going to parties? Is this a Coke and juice thingy for the children?”

“I’m a senior now. There’ll be booze.” The face of his phone was wet from sweat where it touched his cheek. The thought of going out with Arthur, of bringing him along with his friends instead of tagging along with Arthur’s, made his head swim a little. 

“Well, come on then, what’s the plan?”

“I guess I’ll come—hold on just a sec.” He tucked the phone against his chest to check with Will, and his voice came out sounding more apologetic than he’d intended. “I didn’t think my cousin’d be up for coming out tonight, but it sounds like he wants to join us.” 

Will raised his eyebrows. “Sure, ‘course. You need to go home first and get him?” 

Merlin let out a small sigh into the sticky heat. “Probably should. I need to change anyway.” Will nodded and let his attention stray back across the street.

“Hey, Arthur?”

“Still here.”

“I need to come home to change. Um, so, I’m pretty close by. Why don’t I just meet you there and then we can head out?”

“Sure. Whatever suits you, mate.” Arthur sounded slightly weary all of a sudden, and Merlin wondered if his energy wasn’t mostly made of bravado. “It’s early still. Maybe you want to show me round your neighbourhood first.”

Merlin puffed air into his cheeks. “Sure, um. Sure. Well, there’s actually a bunch of us supposed to meet up in the park. It’s close by. I could, um… I could take you ‘round and then maybe we could go? To the park?” Why was this so difficult? He made plans with Will and Gwen every day. And Arthur was like a brother to him. But he had no experience taking the lead with Arthur, no experience slotting Arthur into his life. 

“Sure, sure. I’d like to meet your friends.” 

Merlin didn’t entirely believe that, but Arthur was going to be in his home for months so he’d have to give him the benefit of the doubt. “Ok, I’ll be there in about… um. Well, I’m waiting for a friend actually. I just need to wait till she’s dressed and then I’ll be over. Maybe ten or fifteen minutes?”

“Undressed? A friend, you say?”

_Oh fuck._ “A friend.” Merlin caught the little twitch of a smile Will gave to that and wanted to punch something for one brutal second. “I’ll see you soon, ‘kay?”

“Whatever you say, cuz. See you in a bit.”

~o~O~o~

Gwen hadn’t appeared after fifteen minutes, in fact, and Merlin had to send Will in after her. “Just, whatever she’s wearing, tell her she looks hot, and I’ll give you a call when we’re headed over to the park.”

“Yeah, yeah. Leave me with the diva.”

“Oh, you have no idea. Arthur can out-diva Gwen any day.”

Will smiled briefly as he turned away from Merlin, but then he caught Merlin’s arm, and his expression was as serious as Will ever got. “Is your cousin gonna be an asshole? ‘Cause I don’t get why you didn’t tell me he was coming.”

“I did tell you—”

Will’s lips bunched. “You know what I mean.” 

Merlin slumped. He had no good answer to that, not even for himself. “I don’t know. I mean, no, he’s not an asshole. He’s—” Will was listening intently. His expression had softened, so Merlin persisted. “He’s kind of like a brother to me. It’s just…weird. It’s weird that he’s here. I’m psyched about it, but I think…I didn’t really think he’d come.”

Will’s forehead creased the way it did when he couldn’t make something out. And how could he when Merlin could hardly make it out himself? There was no one who made him feel insecure the way Arthur did. He felt utterly transparent, but he wasn’t even sure what it was he was exposing. 

“So, what? You look up to him?”

“Yeah, I guess. And he’s just…he’s not an asshole, but he’s kind of, I don’t know. Bossy, maybe? And he’s older. And I’m just—I’m like his little cousin, y’know? He’s never visited me here. He’s never met any of my friends. He’s like…the closest person to me in the world apart from my mum, and it’s just weird.” Merlin knew the picture he was painting had a glaring hole in the middle of it, but there was no way to fill that in for Will.

Will’s mouth drooped into an uncomprehending frown. “Just not sure why you didn’t tell me, man.” 

Merlin couldn’t look Will in the eye. He nodded and squinted down at his feet, shoving his hands into his sweaty jeans’ pockets. “Yeah, sorry. I should’ve. I’m not sure why, but—” _there was something unreal about it._ He couldn’t say that to Will without sounding totally cheesy, so he shrugged his shoulders instead.

“Hey, Merlin.” Merlin looked up and Will ruffled his hair. “S’kay. I’m psyched to meet him. Sounds like maybe he is an asshole, but I know how it is with family. We’ll show him a good time, ‘kay?” Will gave him a genuine smile and Merlin’s shoulders loosened. 

“Thanks, Will. I’m sure you’ll think he’s an arse. I mean, he’s totally British. I don’t know. S’gonna be so weird to have him here.”

“Fuck. You know the girls are gonna be all over that fucking accent, just like when you first got here.” Merlin smiled, because although the thought made him a bit queasy, anything that predictable had to be mocked.

“They were _not_ like that with me.” 

Will shoved him on the shoulder as he left him on the stoop to ring Gwen’s doorbell. “Christ Merlin, they sure were. It was disgusting.”

Merlin laughed genuinely and headed the few blocks home.

~o~O~o~

Merlin and Hunith had lived in the same apartment since their arrival in America, when he was ten. They’d been lucky. Compared to the cramped space Gwen’s family lived in, and the relatively spacious dump that Will had grown up in, his apartment was luxurious. It was rent-stabilised and just off DeKalb, a block from the north edge of Fort Greene Park. Their building was a touch wider than the brownstones that lined their street, and their apartment was on the parlour floor, which meant twenty-foot ceilings. The space felt much bigger than its actual one thousand square feet. It was, at the end of the day, one thousand square feet of Brooklyn apartment, no AC, noisy, scuffed floors, tiny bathroom, and barely two proper bedrooms. Compared with the palace that Arthur was accustomed to, he and his mum might as well have been living in a slum.

But Merlin loved his home. He loved the rhythm of city traffic that rumbled through the front of the apartment, the echoing sound that footsteps made on the metal stairs through their building, and the thrumming energy that pressed into the dark. It wasn’t Manhattan, but the bars and restaurants on DeKalb kept a modest stream of people on the street at night. He loved the shade of the crooked maples on his block and the fact that he knew some of his neighbours. He also liked that no one expected him to be anything here. He was the boy from England (he’d tried to explain Wales with no success, so gave up trying after a couple of years) with the funny accent that was fading rapidly, who had a few close friends and no trouble at school. 

Merlin wiped his palms on his jeans and the sweat off his upper lip with the back of his hand as he hopped up the single flight of stairs to his apartment. In the hall, he kicked off his combat boots and peeled off his socks, not wanting to bring the city grime and smell into his home. It was cooler just inside the door, thanks to a ceiling fan in the living room and the ventilation they got from the floor-through layout of the place. It was still warm, but bearable.

He heard voices coming from the kitchen at the back of the apartment, so he dropped his backpack into his bedroom, and caught his flushed image in the mirror on the back of his door. He looked a wreck. Red-faced, a little burnt already on the cheeks and nose. His hair was unruly, which was planned, but now he looked at the spiky strands critically. He frowned. _This is stupid,_ he thought, and forced himself down the hall to the kitchen. 

“Hello?” 

“In here, dear.” Hunith would never lose her Welsh lilt, and Merlin was glad for that. She and Arthur were sitting at the long kitchen table that was too formal for the space, and Arthur’s eyes widened a bit when he looked up at Merlin. Merlin stood stiffly under his inspection, unsure what to make of Arthur’s expression. 

“Cuz, come here.” Merlin took a few halting steps forward as Arthur pushed his chair back and reached out to clap him on the back. “You’re—wow—”

“Taller than you,” Merlin noticed. Just a fraction of an inch, but even in bare feet he was taller than Arthur. He felt a pocket of heat over his skin where his T-shirt swished against Arthur’s button-down, and he pulled back and looked down, a little awkward with the closeness. 

Arthur held him at arm’s length for a moment before letting him go and taking his seat. “Yeah. A little. Wow. And—I don’t know. How old are you?”

Merlin shook his head dismissively and grabbed the chair on the corner from Arthur. He slumped down into it, kicking his legs out straight and crossing his ankles. “Whatever. I hit my growth spurt a little early, I guess.”

Arthur leaned forward on the table, weight resting on his forearms, hands clasped. “It’s just been longer than I thought. You were—you’re getting all grown up.”

Merlin tucked his chin into his chest and tried to suppress a smile. He knew he looked older than his age. Most of the kids in his classes didn’t know he was a year or, in the case of his science classes, two years younger than they were. He inspected Arthur through downcast eyes. Arthur was older, too. It’d been almost two years, and it showed in the squared line of his jaw, the scruff there from travel and possibly a lazy day of packing, and also in his eyes. Arthur looked a little rough and tired, in an oxford with the sleeves rolled to his elbows and faded jeans, and he was still the most beautiful person Merlin knew. 

“So, you boys up to trouble tonight?” Hunith asked. She gave Merlin a wink as she rose from the table to bring her glass to the sink. He followed after her to grab a glass of water. He was grateful that she didn’t ever make a fuss about his plans. She trusted him, and he did his best to earn that. “I expect you to make sure your cousin doesn’t get into trouble now,” she said over her shoulder as he held the cold glass to his cheek.

“My word, Hunith—”

Merlin interrupted with a laugh. “I think she means me, take care of you,” he said, giving in to a teasing grin. “You are the foreigner, after all.”

Arthur’s mouth opened in mock surprise. “Oh, really, it’s like that? Well, I think I can hold my own with these city kids. But I’ll let my little cousin here chaperone if it makes you feel better.” Arthur was up then, scuffling into him as he tried to swallow around a mouthful of water. “Ready there? I want to see your city!”

Merlin coughed into the glass and shoved Arthur off. “Need to shower, change. It’s kinda hot.”

“I noticed,” Arthur said, and put his hand on the sweaty nape of Merlin’s neck, causing goose bumps to run up his scalp. “You’re a sweaty mess. I could use a shower, too.”

Merlin led the way back to his bedroom, and Arthur brought his suitcase in from the living room. It was a small space, barely large enough for a double bed against the wall, narrow chest of drawers, and a small desk in front of the floor-to-ceiling window that faced the street. Arthur’s suitcase occupied a good quarter of the floor space by the door where he left it. He toed off his shoes and socks and flopped himself on Merlin’s bed while Merlin switched on the small fan propped on his desk and aimed it at the bed.

“Hunith said I was sleeping here and you’re kipping on the futon in that little nook off the kitchen?” Merlin nodded as he rifled through his T-shirt drawer to find what he was looking for. “Seems kind of tight. You sure? I wouldn’t mind—”

Arthur didn’t finish, and Merlin wasn’t sure whether he was offering to swap places or share the bed. He didn’t want to find out. “Nah, it’s fine. I sleep there all the time when we have company.” He was aware of Arthur watching him from his reclined perch on the bed and tried not to blush under the attention. It was almost a dream, having Arthur here, and it was taking some effort not to get flustered from the sheer pleasure of it. He tossed a grey concert T-shirt and cargo shorts onto the bed next to Arthur and went into his wardrobe to find his sandals. 

“Shorts? Is that…done?” Merlin turned around on his hands and knees at the wardrobe door to find Arthur picking at his clothes.

“Eh. I don’t know. Not at a club in Manhattan, but it’s just a house party. And it’s fucking hot.” Merlin waved his arms around as though the heat were a solid presence in the room. “You can wear whatever you want, but there probably won’t be any AC.”

Arthur lay back on the tatty duvet and puffed up the pillow behind him. “Kinda beat, I have to admit. I’m not used to it—it’s been bloody frigid in Cardiff this spring.” 

“You wanna—?” Merlin felt his mood deflate at the thought of Arthur staying home. 

“I’ll be fine. Maybe just snooze a bit while you shower.” Arthur turned over on his side and stretched while he kept his eyes on Merlin. Merlin plucked his sandals out of a pile on the floor of the wardrobe and then shoved the door closed again, feeling himself about to start turning in circles under Arthur’s gaze. “You really have grown up, mate,” Arthur said, stifling a yawn into his forearm. Arthur looked incongruously young, with both hands tucked under the pillow and his knees curled slightly toward his chest. He glanced at Arthur and felt the pull of his sleepiness. 

“Yeah, I’m beat myself. I think a shower will wake me up.” Arthur lazily patted the bed next to him and something fluttered in Merlin’s stomach. The feeling caused a small internal panic, so Merlin picked his clothes off the bed instead and left Arthur to his nap.

Arthur had fallen asleep by the time Merlin was showered and dressed, and he didn’t have the heart to wake him, or to leave him behind. Merlin grabbed the latest copy of Science Times off the coffee table and lay down on the couch in the living room, by far the coolest spot in the apartment. He nodded off with the magazine splayed open on his chest and woke to Arthur blowing a tickling breath into his ear. “Waaaake up,” Arthur hummed as he jerked away from the wisp of Arthur’s lips at the side of his face. 

It took another half hour for Arthur to shower, shave, and dress in his own khaki shorts and polo. Arthur looked too preppy and pressed for Merlin’s crowd, but he didn’t have the courage to tell him. It was almost seven that evening when they hit the pavement, still bright and boiling on nearly the longest day of the year. Arthur peppered him with questions about the neighbourhood and public transport and his friends as they made the short way to Fort Greene Park, and Merlin did his best not to get breathless from the energy it took to keep up. He’d felt a little breathless all day, anticipating this, and the reality of Arthur beside him had not yet eased his nerves. Even the hand that Arthur curled over Merlin’s shoulder as they walked felt like it could be made of mirage. 

They found Gwen and Will on the swings. Will was swinging sideways in an effort to collide with Gwen, who was twisting the chains in idle circles, letting her feet drag through the sand beneath her. Her older brother, Elyan, was leaning with the pole against his spine, scuffing the concrete where it met the sand. 

Merlin held up a hand as he approached and saw Will and Gwen assess Arthur as casually as they could manage. Gwen had gotten out in a yellow sundress he’d never seen, and looked to him like the setting sun. Merlin couldn’t help a nervous glance at Arthur as they got closer. But Arthur was beaming, a light too bright to be extinguished, and Merlin let some of the tension fall out of him.

“Hey, sorry. Took us awhile to get organised.” 

Gwen ceased twirling and Will planted his feet under him, standing to introduce himself. “Everyone took off,” he said, looking Arthur up and down obviously this time. “Hey, I’m Will,” he said, stiffly polite but not unkind, Merlin noted.

Arthur didn’t hesitate; he approached and thrust his hand at Will. “Arthur. Nice to meet you.” Arthur shook his hand and turned to Elyan.

“Hey. I’m Elyan. You’re Merlin’s cousin?” They shook hands and Arthur nodded, turning his smile on Merlin. 

“Cousin, big brother, best friend.” 

Merlin flushed at that and nodded dopily. He never failed to glow at the recognition of Arthur’s affection, but he dampened a bit at the flat expression on Will’s face. 

Arthur didn’t notice, and swung around to bow toward Gwen on her swing. “You must be Gwen.”

Merlin could see Gwen caught on the knife’s edge of Arthur’s charm, floundering a bit. She wasn’t easily charmed. Her own warmth and kindness didn’t prevent her from having a suspicious heart, and it took a lot to earn her friendship. But she’d be vulnerable to Arthur; he saw that immediately.

“That’d be me,” she said simply, and shaded her eyes against the sun behind him as she looked up. “Nice to meet you. Welcome to Brooklyn.”

The rest of their friends had dispersed for dinner and sprucing up nearly an hour earlier, so they agreed to a casually celebratory dinner of their own at one of the restaurants alongside the park. It was a hole-in-the-wall soul-food place that’d been there longer than his short years in the neighbourhood, and Gwen, Elyan, and Will were nearly family to the owners. Gwen and Elyan might have actually been family to the couple who ran the place, Merlin had never been sure. He’d eaten there more times than he could count, but having Arthur beside him, chatting idly with his friends, hearing about Elyan’s first year in college and each of them talking through their summer plans, had him buzzing with something new.

As they ate, Arthur kicked Merlin under the table for emphasis, told stories to his friends about their childhood, made Cardiff sound majestic and exotic instead of the grey place of his memory. Even Will seemed ready to give Arthur a chance. 

They left full of oxtail stew and collard greens and stood on the sidewalk to let their stomachs settle. Gwen made a couple of calls on her mobile, tracking down their destination with Will listening in, while Arthur slung an arm tightly around Merlin’s neck and convinced Elyan to set him up with a fake ID. “The drinking age here is rubbish.”

They set off up DeKalb, and Merlin felt relaxed for the first time all day, stunned by how easily Arthur had settled in by his side, as though he’d always been there. Arthur was already filling up the space around him.

“Elena’s hosting,” Gwen said over her shoulder, swaying ahead with Will. 

Elena lived in a fourth floor walk-up, and the place was predictably sweltering, even with fans set up in the windows. There were already more than a dozen of Merlin’s classmates, as well as graduating seniors, lounging on the beaten furniture and standing against walls with their beer bottles. He recognised the first couple songs blaring through the apartment from a playlist he’d listened to over shared headphones, and he looked around for Gwaine as they pushed their way into the crowded kitchen to find the beer. Before he could worry about introducing Arthur around, he’d disappeared with Elyan and Gwen, so Merlin scanned the living room until mischievous brown eyes from the far wall met his.

“My favourite biologist!” Gwaine called, and Merlin raised his bottle in greeting as he made his way through the crowd of bodies. 

“Hey, congratulations.” He clinked his bottle with Gwaine’s and tried to look glad for him. “You did it.”

Gwaine leaned back against the wall and blew a puff of breath up at his long fringe. “Looks like it. Kind of crazy.”

“I can’t wait,” Merlin said, not having the words for everything that graduation meant to him. “So, what’s next? Or is that an awful question?”

“Nah, I’m all set. It’s boot camp for me in August.” 

“Is that—really?” Merlin tried not to sound surprised, but it wasn’t what he’d expected. “I mean…great… I just—I didn’t know—”

Gwaine laughed and tugged on Merlin’s T-shirt. “Look at you and your lefty concert shirts. You—”

“Lefty? That’s—” Merlin looked down at the hand that was clutching Joe Strummer’s guitar over his stomach, and stammered.

“I’m just giving you a hard time.” Gwaine’s smile was too easy for Merlin to worry he’d offended him. “I know. I don’t seem like the military’s type. In more ways than one.” Gwaine winked and Merlin could feel his heart tumble a little. “But I’m not ready to go back to school, and I’m not expecting to see any major action. Just gonna travel and keep my head low, get myself some discipline while I figure out what I wanna do.”

Merlin nodded. It was conversations like this that left him feeling his youth. He couldn’t imagine being ready to sign away four years of his life to the military, to face being grown-up beyond the very first step of easing his way out of his childhood home. “Sounds like an adventure,” he said, unsure what that meant.

“What about you? One more year? Then…?” 

“Oh,” Merlin shook his head, “I don’t know. Not ready to think about that.” He looked down and was thinking he might say something to Gwaine about his plan when a solid mass ploughed into his side and knocked him off balance. 

Gwaine caught Merlin at the elbow, and Merlin could see from his expression he was about to come to Merlin’s defence, but Arthur grabbed Merlin around the waist and hoisted him an inch off the floor in a bear hug before Gwaine could get a word out. 

“Cuz!” Arthur set him down roughly and ruffled his hair. “It’s bloody brilliant to be in New York,” he said, sounding drunker than was possible in the short time since their arrival. Merlin hadn’t quite finished his first beer. 

“Hey, Arthur, this is Gwaine.” Merlin waved his hand at Gwaine and Gwaine nodded. They were standing close, Gwaine’s back against the wall, so Arthur laid a friendly hand on Gwaine’s shoulder.

“Nice to meet you, mate. I was just talking to Elyan about football, and he said you play.”

Gwaine nodded again, apparently not ready to speak until he had a better measure of Merlin’s cousin.

“Arthur plays soccer…uh…football…whatever,” Merlin offered. “He’s my cousin, here for the summer.”

Gwaine glanced at Merlin before putting his hand out for a friendly shake. “Nice to meet you.”

“My pleasure.” Arthur shook his hand vigorously and appeared undaunted by Gwaine’s cautious demeanour. “Elyan says there’s a pick-up league?”

“Yeah, we play most summers. I think the gang’s all in this year. You’ll meet Lance. He’s our de facto captain. Be glad to have you.” 

“Excellent! Eight hours on the ground and I’ve got a side. Merlin’s living the life here.” Arthur wrapped his arm around Merlin’s head again, ruffling the artfully arranged mess of hair and bumping their hips together. “Either of you need a drink?”

Merlin was unbearably hot in Arthur’s embrace and anxious not to lose the thread of his conversation with Gwaine. “Nah, I’m all set,” he said, gesturing with his bottle.

Gwaine shook his head, too, and Arthur waved as he disappeared back into the crowd. Merlin took a steadying breath before meeting Gwaine’s inquisitive eyes.

“So he’s your cousin? He seems a bit… ”

“Posh?” Gwaine raised an eyebrow in question. “You’d say privileged, maybe?”

“That explains the _look_ about him. But he’s family, right?”

“Yeah. Our mothers married in different directions.” Gwaine laughed in a way that made Merlin feel clever. “But he’s cool though. Really.”

“S’okay. As long as he’s good with the ball.”

“He’s too good. Kind of obnoxiously good.”

“Awesome. With Lance, Elyan, and your princess, we’ll be unbeatable this summer.” Merlin smiled at the thought of watching them play together. He still wasn’t much for sports, but he liked the idea. “You’re not—?”

“Nah. Not my thing,” Merlin said, and looked down at his feet.

“Too smart,” Gwaine said, and kicked the toe of Merlin’s sandal with his own flip-flopped foot, forcing Merlin to look up. The back of his neck prickled at the smile Gwaine was giving him and he hid his own behind a swig from his beer bottle.

Merlin swallowed and said, “Smart’s got nothing to do with it. Uncoordinated is more like it.” 

“Ah, I was always impressed by your fine motor skills. I bet you’re coordinated when it counts.”

Merlin coughed and couldn’t meet Gwaine’s eyes. He wasn’t sure how Gwaine could make dissecting frogs sound dirty, but he was ashamed by his own response. They’d been lab partners in biology, and Gwaine had never purposefully made him uncomfortable, but Merlin often felt like he was out of his depth around him. Gwaine tugged at his T-shirt again. “Hey, that was a compliment, you know.” 

“Thanks.” He could feel his ears burning and smiled behind another swig of beer. 

Later, the room was beginning to tilt and Merlin considered trading beer for water. He was sitting on the floor beside the couch at Gwen and Elena’s feet while they had a relatively serious, if drunken, debate about the gentrification of their neighbourhood. They’d been friends as long as either of them could remember, but their families’ backgrounds were as different as any two in Brooklyn. Elena’s parents were first generation immigrants from Poland, while Gwen’s family had been in Brooklyn since shortly after the Civil War brought her great-great-great grandparents North to freedom. As close as they were, there was an edge to the debate. 

Arthur came around as things got more heated and sat next to Merlin with his back against the couch. Merlin held his breath, worried Arthur would interject. Arthur’s world was so different from his, and he wondered whether Arthur had the tact and humility to listen to a conversation about race and class without sticking his foot in, as Uncle Uther surely would have. To Merlin’s surprise, Arthur listened quietly, sipped his beer, and watched the two young women trade arguments back and forth with what looked like keen interest.

“You make it sound like gentrification is all about race, but this neighbourhood has changed a lot, and not only because of wealthy whites moving in. My family wasn’t part of the gentrification, and neither was Merlin’s.” Elena poked Merlin with her foot and he smirked at Gwen, knowing that Elena was trying to beat Gwen’s argument by using her own affections against her.

But Gwen was too sharp to take the bait. “This isn’t about you or Merlin, or me. Sure, there are wealthier African-Americans moving into the neighbourhood, and there have been poor whites living here in small numbers for decades, and yes, it’s about class as well as race. But I promise you what will happen eventually—slowly maybe—but eventually, is that as prices go up and taxes go up, it’ll get whiter and whiter, and the African-American families will either leave or get pushed out, by and large.” 

Merlin looked around the room and saw Lance leaning in the doorway, watching Gwen the way he’d been doing for a couple of years now. He raised his chin to Merlin and Merlin waved him over, hoping his presence would bring an amicable end to the debate. He didn’t know Lance very well, but he knew him well enough to know there was something about Lance that settled everything around him peacefully. 

Lance waded through the scattered bodies on the floor and nodded to Gwen and Elena before sitting on Merlin’s other side. The discussion grew quiet, and he guessed that Gwen’s attention had strayed to the imposing brunette now at her feet. “Don’t let me interrupt, ladies,” Lance said.

Elena stretched on the couch and stood. “Nah, Gwen’s probably right. Anyway, time will tell. You want another drink, G?” Gwen shook her head and leaned back on the couch, stretching her bare legs into the space where Elena had been, her dress riding up to her thigh. 

Merlin leaned his head back to rest against her knee. “I’m drunk,” he declared. Arthur poked him in the side and Lance chuckled. “You met my cousin?”

“Yep. He’s our new forward.” Lance leaned across him to put his fist out for Arthur. Arthur had wasted no time making friends, and Merlin chastised himself for worrying about Arthur fitting into his life. 

“So, what’s next?” asked Arthur. 

Merlin counted the hours in his head and realised it was nearly morning for Arthur’s jet lagged body. “Curfew for me,” Merlin said. “You can do what you want, but I’m gonna have to head home in a half hour or so.”

Arthur slumped into his side and played idly with the hem of his T-shirt. “You like The Clash, mate?”

Merlin nodded and held his breath as Arthur’s fingertips skimmed his waist unintentionally. He hated how out of control he felt of his body. It had been that way for a few years, but it was getting worse instead of better. And alcohol magnified everything. He fidgeted under the tickling near-touch and then popped up when his anxiety spiked. “Gonna get some water. You plan to stay?”

Arthur sat up straighter and glanced around him to Gwen on the couch. Something passed between them and Arthur shook his head, not taking his eyes off Gwen. “Nah, I’m ready to crash.”

Merlin found Gwaine and Will in the kitchen, leaning up against the narrow counter and talking in low voices. The air in the apartment was stifling, and both Gwaine and Will looked as damp as he felt under his clothes. “I’ve gotta head out soon.”

“Call you tomorrow?” Will asked, moving aside so Merlin could get water from the tap. 

“Sure. I think …” Merlin held the glass to his lips as he spoke and Will nodded, looking less bothered than he expected after having hardly had a chance to talk to Will all night. “…I’m probably gonna have to play tour guide this weekend, but, yeah, give me a call.” 

Will was quiet for a moment and Gwaine cleared his throat. “Your cousin seems cool, Merl. I told him to come kick the ball around with us on Sunday. Maybe you’ll come?” 

Gwaine sounded hopeful and Merlin shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, sure, probably.” 

Merlin and Arthur said goodnight to Elyan, Lance, and Gwen on the corner. The air had cooled down on the street, and it woke Merlin up enough to stay lively for the short walk home. There were still crowds on the pavement, drinking and finishing meals at tables, smoking outside the bars that didn’t have outdoor seating. It wasn’t yet midnight on a Friday, so the night was just beginning to liven. “The city that never sleeps,” said Arthur, as though he were reading from a tourist brochure.

“You have no idea,” Merlin answered. He’d always been too young to go out in Cardiff, but he knew there was no nightlife like New York’s there. Will’s dad had travelled all over the world and said there was none to match it anywhere.

“So, what’s up with Gwen and Lance?” Arthur’s question surprised him, and Merlin had to remind himself that Arthur had always been more observant than he gave him credit for.

“Lance and Elyan have been best friends forever. Lance practically lives with them. So…”

“So he doesn’t want to make a move on his best friend’s little sister.” Merlin nodded. It struck him how obvious it seemed to Arthur, when Gwen herself had been oblivious for years. He figured Elyan must know, or maybe didn’t want to. “What about you?”

“Huh?” 

Arthur laughed and curled his hand around the back of Merlin’s neck, where he’d touched him that afternoon. It was familial and warm but made Merlin’s breath speed up all the same. “You and Gwen?”

“Oh, oh.” Merlin shook his head and willed himself not to pull out of Arthur’s grasp. “She’s my best friend. Well, her and Will. Nothing like that.”

Arthur left it at that and they stumbled into the apartment a few minutes later, careful not to wake Hunith.

~o~O~o~

At three in the morning, Merlin was roused from a deep sleep by footsteps and a “sorry, sorry, mate,” as Arthur came through to get to the bathroom. The downside to sleeping in the not-quite room off the kitchen was that anyone needing to use the bathroom had to walk through it to get there. He wasn’t a spectacular sleeper, but he had enough alcohol in his system to get back to sleep when Arthur wobbled back to his bedroom. He woke again to hot sun beating on him through the one window in the narrow space, and looked at his phone to see it was nearly eight o’clock.

Merlin and Hunith had coffee and bagels set up in the kitchen by the time Arthur joined them mid-morning, and they made plans to go into Manhattan so Arthur could learn his way around. Arthur was starting an internship at the UN on Monday, and Merlin promised to teach him the subway route. 

A slight breeze turned the nearly too-hot day into a perfect one, the air dryer than it’d been all week, and Merlin guided his excited cousin onto the Q train at the bottom of DeKalb. It was heady, having Arthur to himself, focused on him and elated at the freedom from what Merlin was beginning to hear had been an oppressive couple of years in the Pendragon household. He was surprised by how easily Arthur vocalised a lot of it. It wasn’t news to Merlin, but Arthur’s willingness to talk about it seemed new. Uther expected Arthur to go into the RAF, as Uther had, and then pursue a political career. 

“He says I’m a natural-born leader. But I don’t want to be his kind of leader. It seems like we need peacemakers, not war-makers, these days.” Merlin felt certain pieces of himself slide into place for the first time as he listened to Arthur talk. Arthur was turning into a decent person. Merlin could hear it in the dreams Arthur painted for him as the subway train rattled over the Manhattan Bridge.

As the day unfolded, Merlin wondered if there were ever minutes in Arthur’s life that faltered, moments around Arthur when one would want to be somewhere else. Arthur dragged him to the East River to peer at the UN Building from a distance, talked excitedly about his internship and the course he’d taken last term on international human rights laws. They hoofed it all the way to Central Park and ate sandwiches in the grass with tired legs while they watched a co-ed softball league play through a sloppy few innings. They walked all the way to Columbus Circle and took the train down to Washington Square Park where they caught an acrobatics performance. Merlin felt like he was unlocking a treasure chest for Arthur, and his cousin was the pirate with gold in his eyes as they made their way around the city. “Glorious!” Arthur proclaimed it all, and Merlin’d never felt so fully in the moment. 

After hours of window-shopping and people watching and exploring many square miles of Soho and Tribeca, Merlin called his mum to see if she wanted to meet them for dinner. She’d just gotten home from a noon-to-eight shift at the hospital and admitted she was too tired to face going out. So at half past eight, with the last light draining from the sky, he and Arthur made their way back up to the Village and ate at Merlin’s favourite noodle place on Sixth Avenue. 

The day had cost Merlin more than twenty dollars, most of what he’d saved for the next couple of weeks, but he couldn’t regret it. Arthur sat across from him at the small table, crammed into the corner of the restaurant, their knees bumping underneath and forearms competing for space above, and they talked conspiratorially of how they would live if they had the money to get a place in Manhattan. 

It was nearly midnight when they let themselves into the apartment. Arthur planted two firm hands on Merlin’s shoulders from behind and marched him into his bedroom. “I feel like an arse taking your bed. It’s silly. We can share.” The weeks of resolve Merlin had spent building, to ensure that he wouldn’t let this precise thing happen, crumbled like over-dried mud under Arthur’s jovial will. But his muscles ached from the miles they’d walked, and the welcome of his own mattress under him felt harmless enough. He slid in next to Arthur, one side nearly pressed against the cool wall, and Arthur lay on his back with his hands behind his head, praising Merlin’s city in a way that made him feel like he’d built the tall buildings himself. Merlin vaguely remembered that Will had never called as he sank out of consciousness, and was fleetingly aware of Arthur’s arms and legs snaking around him in the night.

Merlin woke to an empty bed. The knowledge that Arthur couldn’t be far, was likely in the kitchen chatting with his mum over morning tea and the Sunday paper, tied him to the moment, just as Arthur’s presence yesterday had. He called Will from bed, arranged to meet him at the field where Arthur had a date with a football. He called Gwen, but she’d already made plans with Elena and said she’d meet them for a movie later that night. 

They all had plans this summer. Gwen and Will had jobs lined up as counsellors at a children’s day camp in Park Slope. Elena was going away for a month to theatre camp in the Berkshires on scholarship. Merlin was taking Bio-chem and Calculus II at Hunter College’s summer program, something that’d taken help from Professor Gauis to arrange. They’d allowed him to test into the coursework, and his grades and track record convinced the dean to let a sixteen-year-old into the rigorous college classes. He was also hoping to pick up a few shifts at the hospital cafeteria, a job his mum had helped him get when he turned fifteen.

But he and Gwen and Will, they all had a few weeks off, and so Merlin stretched his limbs and his back and made no move to rush into the day.

When he finally got up, Arthur was on the kitchen phone talking to someone he quickly guessed was Morgana. Merlin bent down for a kiss on the cheek from his mum and looked over her shoulder to see she’d already started the Sunday crossword puzzle. He scanned the clues. “Madame Curie, twenty-one across,” he said, pointing, and she nodded distractedly while he went to fill a coffee mug.

Arthur seemed to be mostly listening, uttering the occasional, “uh-huh” and “mmm-hmm,” and “really?” He lifted his chin to Merlin as he plunked down at his seat on the corner of the long table. “Yeah, sounds—Sure…sure.” It was silent for a bit and Arthur’s eyes focused somewhere beyond the whitewashed walls of their Brooklyn kitchen. Then, “Oh, oh, yeah. Yeah, having a grand time. Auntie and Merlin live in this gorgeous neighbourhood, just like you’d imagine, with lines of old brownstones and people carousing on the streets all night long, and yesterday Merlin showed me all around Manhattan. It was brilliant! Yeah, yeah—incredible—so glad—yeah, well, I’m sorry—no, I know—still—thanks. Okay then—will do, sis—okay—bye then.”

Arthur quietly hung up the phone, and still hadn’t said a word as he got himself a bowl of cereal and sat down with them. He poked at Hunith’s crossword and his brow creased as he read through the clues and scanned the unfilled boxes. “Ralph Bunche, fifty-six across,” Arthur offered, and the three of them worked through the puzzle together. Lazily at first, but then excitedly as they got closer to the end. Merlin and his mum often did the puzzle together on Sundays, but he usually lacked the interest to get to the end with her. Arthur was all focus by contrast, and every time he’d say, “good one,” after Merlin filled in a clue, Merlin had to bite his cheek to keep from grinning stupidly. 

All three of them announced the last clue together as the word emerged from the maze of letters, and Merlin marvelled at the broad and easy smile Arthur gave Hunith when she tugged affectionately at his ear before he got up to clear the table. 

“You’re sharp, Auntie. I didn’t know you were such a crossword whiz.” 

“Apparently it runs in the family,” she said, and didn’t ask him about his conversation with Morgana.

~o~O~o~

They met the gang at the high school field that afternoon. Merlin and Will sat in the grass that was more dark soil than green at the edge of the pitch, and they plucked wide blades into a little pile between them while Lance orchestrated a scrimmage of shirts versus skins to learn what he could about his players’ strengths and weaknesses. Merlin warmed self-consciously as Gwaine took off his T-shirt, and then Arthur sidled next to him and stripped off, too, saying something that made Gwaine throw his head back and laugh.

Gwaine’s fine-sculpted torso emerged next to Arthur’s muscled chest, and Arthur punctuated the joke Merlin couldn’t hear with a solid hand on Gwaine’s bicep, holding Gwaine’s attention while he animated the words for him with the other. The ease of touch, the camaraderie between boys, young men, teammates, who had barely just met, stirred up unwelcome melancholy for Merlin. 

He’d never officially come out to Will, but Merlin knew Will knew. Gwen was the only person he’d ever said the words to. _I am gay._ Merlin had said those words to her six months ago, and it had been both the most significant and yet most inadequate moment of his life. He was grateful for Will’s acceptance. Although they never spoke of it directly, he was sure Gwen had confirmed for Will what he must have suspected. And Merlin’s mum had said, in many kind and gentle ways, that she knew. He had a great deal to be grateful for in the acceptance he’d found so far. But he was terrified still, both of the bigger world, and also of doing damage to the acceptance he’d met so far. 

So Merlin fidgeted next to Will, wondering if Will was wondering. It was less the physical response he had to Gwaine…and to…others… _he couldn’t even think about that_ …and more the fear of being noticed. The fear that someone would accuse him of charging a moment that shouldn’t be charged. Arthur and Gwaine were laughing together now, running out to their positions on the field, and the touch, the quick intimacy, went entirely unnoticed by anyone but him.

The game held half their attention, and Merlin told Will about his day in the city with Arthur as they watched. 

“Sounds like fun,” Will said, not sounding like that was what he thought at all. 

Merlin had encouraged Will to join the team, sure that he could hold his own in the backfield, but Will had declined, just as he always did when he had a choice between doing something that would separate him from Merlin, and not. It struck Merlin as they sat on the sidelines, watching the young men run themselves ragged up and down the field, that there was something remarkable in that. 

They got nods and waves from the guys they knew whenever the game brought them close to where he and Will sat. Gwaine winked once as he jogged by, and Will looked over his shoulder at Merlin to raise an eyebrow. Merlin wasn’t clear which side had won, or whether anyone was actually keeping score, but Arthur was elated when he joined Merlin with Gwaine in tow, grabbing for a bottle of water from the backpack he’d brought along. 

Arthur crouched down next to Merlin, muscles flexing in the simple act of reaching, sweat cooling on his bare skin. Their relation had not given them many, if any, overlapping attributes. They shared blood, Merlin knew, but it was unclear they shared much else. He had to tamp down a wave of possessiveness he felt at the proximity of his cousin’s strong frame. It was ridiculous. And yet not for the first time something in Merlin reached for Arthur as though he belonged to him, wanting to gather up all that strength and hold it under his thumb. 

Merlin planted his hands on the ground to lift himself up, needing to put a few inches between himself and Arthur, and then a hand was offering itself to him. He looked up to see Gwaine, his T-shirt tied over his head like an oversized bandana, aiming a lopsided grin at him. Merlin steadied himself as he put his hand in Gwaine’s, noting the heat in the grip as he levered himself off the ground. The momentum nearly knocked him into Gwaine’s bare chest, but he managed to keep a hair’s breadth between them as he got his balance. Gwaine smiled, looked Merlin in the eye and nodded, saying something wordless that he could only guess at. 

Arthur was by his side again in an instant, swallowing back greedy gulps of water and handing the bottle over to Gwaine. He threw a sweaty arm around Merlin’s neck and ruffled his hair, and Merlin had the impression of someone slamming discordant notes onto a piano, his own perceptions and Arthur’s ever at odds. “With Gwaine and me, and Lance—Lance is spectacular—we’re going to kill the competition! Eh, Gwaine?” 

Gwaine stood in front of them both and nodded, bemused by something about the scene. “Sure thing. Your cousin’s pretty good, Merlin.”

“Pretty good? You’ve never seen anything like me, admit it.” Arthur flashed his blinding smile at Gwaine.

Merlin knew Arthur was good, but he didn’t know the game well enough to tell how much of his cousin’s confidence was bluster. He looked questioningly at Gwaine. “S’true? I tend to think he exaggerates.”

Gwaine looked like he was considering whether to feed Arthur’s ego or not, and then smiled. “Nah. Your cousin here is the real deal. He’s better than Lance, I think. Maybe. We won’t have much competition this year.”

“C’mon, let’s get out of here,” said Will. He picked up Merlin’s backpack and headed off the field.

~o~O~o~

Hours later, Merlin piled into the multiplex on Court Street with Will, Gwen, and Elena. Arthur and Gwaine joined them, choosing a movie with the youngsters over a party up at Columbia with Elyan and Lance. Arthur said he needed an early night before he started his internship, and Gwaine had tagged along. Merlin couldn’t help wondering what, or who, the draw was for Gwaine. Merlin had only met Gwaine this year through class, though he was vaguely aware he was a friend of Will’s brother, John, who’d gone into the Marines after he graduated a year ago. Gwaine had never socialised with Will or him before now.

They made their way down the aisle until they found a row of seats that could accommodate them all, and they all shuffled awkwardly before choosing seats. Elena had been harbouring a crush on Will the entire school year, and Merlin couldn’t figure out why Will hadn’t done anything about it. He knew Will liked Elena, but something was holding him back. So, it surprised him when Will picked a seat next to Elena after she first ventured into the row. Ads were already rolling and the theatre was crowded for a Sunday night. Elena had objected to the choice of film but was outvoted by Will, Arthur, and Gwaine. And Merlin. Who had voted for Lara Croft: Tomb Raider. As far as he knew from trailers, Angelina’s boobs were the only plot point, and he hated himself a little for pretending to give a shit. Gwen had gone along with the majority good-naturedly, and he noticed she didn’t put up any resistance to Arthur’s charm this time, sliding into the seat next to him after he nodded for her to follow him. That left Merlin and Gwaine in the seats on the end. 

Merlin sat on the aisle and Gwaine handed him a bag of popcorn, leaning in close. “This doesn’t seem like your kind of movie.” 

Merlin shrugged. “I don’t need to listen to Arthur and Will bitch about the foreign film Elena would’ve dragged us to.” 

“Fair enough,” Gwaine chuckled and slid down into his seat, his shoulder pressed against Merlin’s.

“What about you?” Merlin asked Gwaine.

Gwaine contemplated the piece of popcorn between his fingers and then looked up at Merlin. “I don’t care much about the movie. Just here for the company.” Gwaine flashed a dangerous smile that faded into the dark as the lights went down.

The movie did nothing to hold Merlin’s attention, and he fleetingly wondered whether Angelina’s boobs could salvage it even for Will. In the dark, and without the need to follow a plot, he found himself running in circles around the thought of Gwaine. The weight of his shoulder, how the occasional brush of knee or thigh against his felt. He liked Gwaine. He didn’t know him well, but he liked him. And, whether with real intent or not, Gwaine was flirting with him. Was, in fact, the only guy who had ever flirted with him. He thought Gwaine was hot, too, if he let himself get that far, which he rarely did when he was conscious about it. 

It bothered Merlin, though, that the persistent thought of Gwaine, and the tiny thrill of touch, still had only half his attention. Because the other half was three seats down with Arthur. It had always been that way. He couldn’t be in the same continent with Arthur, let alone the same room, without feeling the pull of him. He shook his head to scatter the thoughts he couldn’t fit together the way he wanted them to fit.

Gwaine squeezed Merlin’s knee and heat crawled up his thigh toward his groin. He looked down at Gwaine’s hand and leaned back to let his neck curl over the top of the chair. “You okay?” Gwaine whispered.

Merlin lifted his shoulders into the back of his neck. “Sure.”

“You look like you’re having an argument with yourself, and you’re losing.” 

Merlin exhaled through his nose, almost a laugh. It felt better to laugh at himself than to think too hard about the nature of that argument, so he smiled at Gwaine in the dark and nodded. “Perceptive.” 

Gwaine patted his knee before resting his hand on Merlin’s thigh, and watched the movie with a small grin on his face, giving Merlin something to distract himself with until the credits rolled. 

Antsy, Merlin stood as soon as the first people began exiting the theatre. He stretched his back with his arms over his head and glanced down their row of seats to see Gwen lean in to whisper in Arthur’s ear. Merlin’s stomach bottomed out, but before he could form a thought around the feeling, the light play of fingers at his waist startled him out of it. Gwaine poked at his skin and stood beside him, ushering him out into the aisle. “Let’s get out of here,” he said into Merlin’s shoulder, and they pushed their way to the lobby, Gwaine’s hand resting on his waist as he guided him through the crowd. Gwaine didn’t let go until they met up with the others.

“That movie was kind of crap,” said Will as they found each other and made their way for the escalators to the street.

“I rest my case,” answered Elena, looking fondly at Will. Will tugged on Elena’s hair, and Merlin noticed that Gwen looked as curious about the latest development as he was. Merlin turned away then and kept his eye on the exit, aware that he was just as likely to see Arthur flirting with Gwen. His pulse was still racing a bit from Gwaine’s touch, and he wanted to hold onto the idea of it a moment longer.

The evening was humid after the cool dryness of the theatre, and Merlin thought they were due for some rain. They walked the two miles home, and Gwaine fell into step beside Merlin at the front of their little group as they made their way down Fulton. He could hear the conversations behind him: Will and Elena debating the relative merits of action movies, and Gwen and Arthur talking more seriously about the Bush Administration. Gwaine was silent for a long while, but Merlin was aware that he was being watched. 

“You follow politics?” Gwaine finally broke the silence when they’d crossed onto DeKalb. 

“A little,” Merlin answered, realising it was very possible Gwaine was more conservative than he was, and that he’d never really thought about it before. “You?”

“Not much. They’re all corrupt bastards, aren’t they?”

Merlin wasn’t sure he thought so, but he wasn’t sure what he thought so he nodded and didn’t answer. 

“But you read the paper,” Gwaine said. “I bet you know what’s going on in the world.”

“About some things. I follow the news about climate change. Energy policy stuff.” _Gay civil rights._ He watched Gwaine, who was looking into the darkness of Fort Greene Park. 

“S’good, Merlin. The world needs people like you and Arthur.”

“Like what?” 

“People who care.” 

Merlin had never thought of himself that way, and he’d certainly never thought of Arthur that way. But Gwaine was overhearing the same conversation behind them and he couldn’t help the feeling of pride that stole over him at the connection. 

“I don’t believe you don’t care.” Merlin had a reflexive distaste for violence and war, and the military’s history of discrimination marked it as an institution he’d never imagine joining. But he had a feeling Gwaine wasn’t joining up thoughtlessly. 

“Ah, never underestimate my ability to not give a shit, Merlin.” Gwaine’s jaw flexed just before he broke into a nearly convincing grin.

“So why fight? Why not travel the world on your own?”

“Can’t afford it,” Gwaine said simply. 

Merlin nodded, and still thought it was more than that.

They hit Merlin’s corner first and said lazy goodbyes. He and Gwen had plans to get together tomorrow and he was glad, hoping that an afternoon with his best friend would dispel some of the unsettled tension he felt at the sight of Arthur kissing her goodnight on the cheek. Arthur offered the same kiss to Elena, and she looked taken for a moment. “You’re so awesomely British,” she said, and she and Gwen exchanged a knowing glance. 

Merlin rolled his eyes and tugged at Arthur’s sleeve. “C’mon, before they start asking you to say stupid words.” 

“What? I’m just being polite,” Arthur grinned. 

“Yeah, whatever, Princess Charming,” said Gwaine. 

Merlin raised his arm to wave goodbye and turned to leave. 

“Hey, Merlin.” Merlin stopped and turned back, Arthur’s sleeve still caught in his hand. “Make sure your cousin gets his beauty rest. Maybe you’ll deliver him to practice on Wednesday night?” Gwaine winked and shook his head and laughed.

~o~O~o~

Hunith was still up when they got home, but Arthur pleaded exhaustion and excused himself to wash up. Merlin wasn’t sure whether the invitation into bed last night had been a one-time thing or stood open, and he wasn’t sure what he wanted, either. He went to his room to grab his laptop, thinking it was probably best he head for the futon, and came up short at the doorway on his retreat. Arthur looked pointedly at the laptop, and Merlin stepped back, letting Arthur into the room.

“Going somewhere?” Arthur started unbuttoning his shirt, and Merlin shifted the laptop from one arm to the other. 

“Yeah, um, I just figured—” A light wind fluttered the curtain over the window and he thought he should lower it in case of rain. “I don’t want to keep you up.”

Arthur was pulling his arms out of his shirt and giving him his _are you serious_ smirk. “I could sleep through a major seismic event. You can tap away on your laptop all night and I promise it won’t bother me.” Arthur’s fingers worked open the buttons on his jeans, and Merlin jerked his attention back to the window, putting his laptop on his desk to get his hands on the sill. “I’m not kicking you out of your bed, and that’s final.”

Merlin lowered the window to minimise the water that would get through the screen if it poured, and cracked the top to give them more ventilation. When he turned around, Arthur was standing in his boxer briefs watching Merlin’s movements. Merlin lost his breath for one uncomfortable moment and felt his blood rushing at the sight of Arthur. _Shit._ His eyes darted around the room to get away from the cut and curve of muscle and arse and _fuck_. He moved for the door and mumbled, “I’ve gotta say goodnight to Mum.”

“You think it’s gonna rain?” Arthur’s voice was sleepy, and Merlin nodded as he escaped.

“Maybe.”

In the bathroom, Merlin splashed cold water on his face and regarded his reflection in the mirror, cheeks flushed and eyes wide. He tried to remember the feeling of Gwaine’s hand on his knee in the theatre, but instead, the lines of Arthur’s frame drew themselves behind his eyes. Beautiful. Merlin had always seen that beauty. But he was doing a shit job at dodging what it made him feel. He tried to imagine what his response would be to Morgana standing in his bedroom in her underwear. What would it be if he were straight? He brushed his teeth while his mind ping-ponged between guilty admonitions and reassurances. 

He sat down with his mum in the kitchen with a glass of water when he’d finished, not anxious to climb into bed with Arthur.

“You have a nice time at the cinema?” she asked, peering over the Week in Review section. Hunith made the Sunday Times an all-day event when she didn’t have to work, and Merlin found something comforting in the routine of it, the way the sections occupied different parts of the day.

“The movie was awful, but it was fun, yeah,” he said, looking into his glass. “I think Arthur was the only one who actually liked it, but he didn’t want to admit it.”

“How’d he seem to you? Today.” Merlin looked up to find her expression more serious than he could make sense of. 

“Um, fine. Why?” 

“I think Uther is ill. I’m not sure, and I don’t want to pry, but that’s what I gathered from his call with Morgana.”

Merlin’s mind blanked at the news. “I don’t know. He hasn’t said anything.” Hunith nodded and was quiet. She watched him for a moment and then went back to her reading. 

As he walked through the dark hall to his bedroom, Merlin was hit with the sharp memory of Arthur crying into his lap on the night of his mother’s funeral. Merlin stood in the living room and listened for sounds that Arthur was still awake, the floor creaking under his shifting weight even as he tried to be silent. It looked like the small bedside lamp was still on; a low light escaped from under the doorframe, but the room was quiet. 

Maybe Arthur was worried and hadn’t said anything, or was feeling guilty for being away? Maybe he’d go back to Cardiff. The last thought made Merlin’s stomach twist and he dug his nails into his hand, angry that he would even have it. Sometimes his own selfishness scared him.

Merlin let himself into the room quietly and found Arthur’s eyes wide-open. He worked not to stiffen under the gaze. He stood and chewed at his bottom lip for a moment, wondering why Hunith hadn’t asked Arthur herself. “Is your dad okay?”

Arthur didn’t startle at the words, just looked up at the ceiling, one leg at a triangle to the other under the sheet. “Did Auntie say something?”

Merlin nodded and started to undress, leaving the silence there for Arthur to fill if he wanted. 

“Not sure. Morgana said they think he has cancer, but they don’t know for sure yet. A test result he got last week but didn’t tell anyone about until today.”

Merlin stripped to his boxers and went to sit at the desk by the window, pulling his knees up to his chest on the narrow swivel chair. “I’m sorry.”

Arthur propped himself up on his elbows and looked steadily at him. “I’m okay. I feel—I should maybe be more scared, but…I don’t know. I’m okay. I’m a little worried about Morgana.”

Merlin forced himself to find his voice. “Do you think you’ll go back?” 

Arthur pursed his lips and lay back on the bed. “Don’t know. Not unless it’s—not unless he needs me. He doesn’t—I’m not really the person he turns to for support,” Arthur said, without any sign of bitterness.

Merlin sighed heavily into his knees and moved the curtain to the side with his hand to get a look at the night. The sky was dark above the streetlights, hanging heavy. “S’gonna rain.”

“Seriously, Merlin, if you want to work on your laptop in bed, it won’t bother me,” Arthur said. 

Merlin nodded and flipped off the lamp before climbing over his cousin with his laptop to get into bed beside him. He half-heartedly answered some emails about school and thought about writing to Gwen, but couldn’t resist watching Arthur’s face relax into sleep. When Arthur’s eyelids stopped twitching, he closed his laptop and dropped it off the foot of the bed, and he lay in the dark listening to Arthur breathe for a long time after.

Merlin woke to a loud crash, the sound of curtains flapping the first thing to break into his consciousness. Next was the stirring weight of Arthur, who had a leg slung over his thighs and an arm over his torso. The room lit up with flickering light, and Arthur’s head rose. “S’that?” In his fog, Arthur hadn’t completely let go of Merlin, but turned into him instead, burying his question into Merlin’s arm. It took Merlin a moment to come awake, clawing at the fuzz in his brain. The placement of his body and Arthur’s sharpened into focus, and Merlin realised Arthur’s knee was an inch away from grazing his half-hard cock through his boxers. He sat up, removing himself from Arthur’s grip.

“Thunderstorm,” Merlin said, and crawled over Arthur’s legs at the end of the bed to get to the window. He’d left it open only a foot from the floor, but the wind was strong enough to soak water into the ends of the curtains and send them flying. The floor under his desk was damp, and the temperature had dropped enough that Merlin felt goose bumps crawling along his arms as he retreated from the window. 

Merlin kept himself pressed close to the wall when he climbed back into bed, pulling the duvet up from where it was bunched at the foot. “Gimme some of that,” Arthur mumbled into the dark, tugging at the duvet. Underneath it their limbs scrabbled, Merlin’s seeking solitary space and Arthur’s looking for something to grab onto. “C’mere, you idiot. Sharing the bed means putting up with your needy cousin.” Arthur pulled him off the wall and snuggled into his side. Merlin held his breath, his bare skin ticklish to the touch as they arranged themselves, only exhaling when they’d settled and the danger of letting out an inappropriate whimper had passed. 

They were quiet for a moment, the splat of rain against the screen and the paved world outside working to calm his nerves. He loved the smell of heavy rain in the city, the way the soot washed into something cleaner. The air in his bedroom already had that edge of wet silt to it. Lightening brightened the room for a second, and Merlin’s hand instinctively clasped, finding Arthur’s skin under it. The crash of thunder was immediate, telling him the storm was directly overhead.

“You scared?” Arthur asked in a teasing tone.

“Just jumpy.” Merlin’s heart was racing, and he was grateful to blame it on the thunder and lightening.

“Me too, a little.” Arthur shivered almost imperceptibly against him and buried his head into Merlin’s shoulder. “You’re still my favourite person, you know that?”

Merlin’s throat went tight. “So you always say.” He tried for sarcasm but it came out with a rasp.

“It’s true. You take care of me and I—I’d always take care of you. I’d throw myself in front of a bus for you.” Arthur sounded grave, but the words were too melodramatic for Merlin to do anything but chuckle.

“You’d throw yourself in front of a bus for lots of people, Arthur.” Arthur shook his head against Merlin’s shoulder.

“Not the same. Sure, for Morgana, my dad. Auntie. Probably, out of duty. But I’d have to stop and think for a split second. Different with you. I wouldn’t have to think. And it wouldn’t be for duty.”

Merlin let out a puff in amusement. “You’ve given this a lot of thought. Do you think I don’t know how to cross a street?”

“Don’t joke, I’m serious,” Arthur said, though his tone had lightened. “I just—I, yeah, I’ve thought about it.” Arthur pulled himself up in the bed so that his mouth was close to Merlin’s ear. “I’m just saying, I can’t lose you. I might lose everyone else, but I can’t—not you.”

Merlin didn’t know how to say words like that to Arthur, so he said nothing. His hand twitched against Arthur’s chest as he thought about the way the brush of air from Arthur’s mouth at his neck made him feel, even now when Arthur was confessing what was certainly brotherly love. Merlin tamped down what he was feeling and tried to be grateful instead.

[](http://s15.photobucket.com/user/pkaithoch/media/notyou.jpg.html)

~o~O~o~

In two short days, Arthur had lodged himself not only at the centre of Merlin’s attention, but at the centre of his social life as well. Two weeks later, they’d fallen into something resembling a routine, and days ending with Arthur in his bed had begun to feel almost normal.

Arthur came home from work exhausted, full of arcane facts about the laws of war and diplomatic policy papers. He confessed he barely had the energy for football practice— _soccer_ , Merlin kept reminding Arthur—and was up early every morning to get to his internship. 

Merlin didn’t know how Arthur was keeping up with the punishing schedule, and found himself nodding off earlier and waking later than Arthur. He managed to sleep most nights, better than he was accustomed, despite the treacherous dance with Arthur’s limbs under the sheets. He had no idea how Arthur dealt with mornings, and was grateful to sleep through his departure; Merlin himself woke with more than merely his typical morning wood, sometimes urgently aroused. He was spending a great deal of time in the shower. 

Apart from picking up a few shifts at the hospital, Merlin had been free and saw his fill of Gwen and Will, and Will and Elena, more frequently, which was a development he couldn’t quite make sense of, though he was glad for Will.

Gwen went with Merlin to Arthur’s soccer practices beginning that first week. He wasn’t sure whether she was more eager to watch Arthur or Lance, but he knew Arthur had invited her and was planning to ask her out. They’d talked about it, and Merlin scolded himself into accepting it. Arthur’s logic was either brilliant or massively twisted, but he said that Gwen was the perfect summer fling since she was hung up on someone else and knew he’d only be in New York for a few months. 

Merlin’s dread at the thought of them as a couple could’ve been his concern that Gwen might get hurt, but he’d never been a very good liar, not even to himself. He was grateful that he was able to keep the exact nature of their relationship abstract, because neither of them shared any details with him. Even after Arthur and Gwen had been out a couple of times, Merlin was able to largely ignore it. Arthur had little to say after their dates, coming home sober and early, and apparently eager to hear what Merlin had done with his time. And when Gwen talked about Arthur, she spoke about him as a friend. Merlin figured Gwen was sparing him details about his cousin’s sex life, which he appreciated, even if his reasons for wanting to be spared were different from Gwen’s reasons for sparing him. 

Gwaine was attentive in the short time they had to talk after practices, but Merlin hadn’t seen him otherwise. Arthur, on the other hand, saw plenty of Gwaine, and some nights the two of them went out with Lance and Elyan and left Merlin to hang out with his friends. He liked those nights, too. Something about Arthur making friends through him kept him close, and he got to spend time alone with Will and Gwen. 

On the Saturday before the Fourth of July, Lance’s team had its first match at a high school field in Clinton Hill. The sky was white with haze, the kind that refracts the sun into a wall of bright light in all directions, and the heat drained Merlin’s energy before he’d even arrived at the field with Gwen. There were only a handful of spectators, the soupy day too much for anyone less than extraordinarily motivated to be there. He and Gwen picked the top corner of the tri-level, wooden bleachers and gave themselves over to sweat as the humidity turned the outdoors into one enormous steam bath. 

“Remind me, why are we here?” asked Gwen.

“No fucking idea. This is brutal.” Merlin couldn’t imagine chasing after a ball for two hours in this weather. “Go team, I guess.” 

Arthur spotted them from the sidelines and flashed a smile that was enough to change the taciturn expression on Gwen’s face. Merlin’d been looking forward to watching a match, but it didn’t feel worth it at the moment.

Gwaine trotted up next to Arthur and put a hand on his shoulder, said something into the thick air that made Arthur nod and glance back at Gwen and him.

“He likes you, you know.”

Merlin blanched, and then caught up with Gwen’s eyes following Gwaine as he jogged back onto the field. “Who, Gwaine?”

“Of course, Gwaine.”

“He’s an equal-opportunity flirt, but I’m sure he’s straight.”

Gwen shook her head and pulled her mouth into a disapproving frown. “Truly, Merlin, are you serious?”

“What? Of course I am.” Merlin knew he sounded as unsure as he felt.

“Well, whenever you want to be enlightened about how wrong you are, just let me know,” Gwen said.

Merlin shrugged in response. It sounded like Gwen had actual information, but he resisted asking. He watched Arthur and Gwaine horseplay in the moments before the ball was dropped to start the match, and felt a twinge of nausea. 

“Okay, well, I won’t push. But if you want a nudge in that direction, I promise he’s yours for the taking.” 

“Whatever,” was the best Merlin could come up with in response. Arthur and Gwaine were moving the ball up the field between them now, and he and Gwen dropped their conversation as Arthur drove straight to the goal and hooked one in. Gwen jumped up beside him and gave a “Woohoo!” and Merlin smiled despite himself. Less than a minute into the match, and Arthur made it look easy.

Twenty minutes later, it was clear it was going to be a rout. It was hard to tell whether Lance’s team were that good or if their opponents were simply that bad, but there wasn’t anything the other side could do to stop Lance, Arthur, and Gwaine. Elyan saw almost no action as goalie, but easily defended the one shot that came at him. The lack of competition didn’t slow them down any though. Arthur, especially, drove hard, and Merlin wondered how he was staying upright. He and Gwen were both pulling on bottles of water that they’d brought with them, and Merlin was pretty sure he’d already sweat out more than he could drink, his thin shorts wet against his thighs and his T-shirt drenched. 

Gwen plucked at her tank top from the belly and pulled it away from her. “Why are you wearing a shirt? If I could take mine off in public, I’d be half naked in a second.” 

Merlin hesitated. He’d been hiding his body from his classmates for years, not wanting to betray his youth. He’d been ahead a year in school since he arrived in America, and allowed to go ahead even further in the sciences in high school. But he wasn’t as scrawny as he’d been. Wiry, still, but he’d begun to fill out in the last year, and the couple dozen miles of walking every week that came with life in the city had given him long muscles that moved under his skin now. Merlin reached down to the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. 

Gwen gave him a teasing whistle, and he glanced over at the field to make sure no one had heard. She laughed at him. “I don’t get you, Merlin. You’re so self-conscious, it’s like you don’t know you’re kind of gorgeous.”

He swatted her arm with a sweaty palm. “Oi, shut it.” The attention made Merlin twitch. “I’m just puny, you know? I mean, look at them,” he said, waving at the broad, muscled bodies charging after the ball. 

“Yeah,” said Gwen, “and they’re all a lot older. But never doubt, Merlin,” Gwen grabbed his chin in her hand to force him to look at her, “that you’re something special.” Merlin pulled back from her grip and shook his head. “You’re impossible! You have no idea, do you?”

“This is silly, Gwen,” he said, feeling off-balance. Merlin wasn’t sure how people saw him. He wondered, sometimes, what Gwaine saw, or what Arthur saw. But nothing he imagined matched Gwen’s words. 

Gwen put her palms up in the air in surrender. “Okay, okay, I’m done. Someday you’ll get it. In the meantime, enjoy the sunbath.”

Merlin used his T-shirt to wipe the sweat from the back of his neck and leaned back on the bleachers on his elbows, figuring he had about twenty minutes before he started to burn through the haze. He felt his eyes closing against the light. “Wake me when it’s over,” he mumbled.

A sharp whistle cut the air, but it was Gwen’s nudge that opened his eyes. Merlin looked at her and she pointed toward the field. Arthur was standing with his arms raised in the air in a questioning V. “Sleeping? You’re sleeping?” he yelled.

Merlin laughed and called back. “You do know it’s six hundred degrees, don’t you?”

“Wimp!” 

The exchange caught Gwaine’s attention, and he waved up in their direction. Gwaine’s eyes stayed fixed on Merlin for a few beats, and he wanted to wriggle his exposed body away from the stare. A whistle blew and Gwaine took a few steps backward toward the field, eyes fixed on him. Finally Gwaine shook his head, turned, and ran to position. Merlin felt his pulse pick up, and kept his eyes open. The whole team was wet, their shirts stuck to their bodies, hair dripping like they’d been swimming. Merlin’s gaze swayed from Gwaine to Arthur until he couldn’t manage more than a jumble of clipped thoughts as he watched them play.

“Are you gonna tell Arthur?” Gwen asked from out of nowhere, after Lance made a tough goal on an assist from Arthur. Merlin turned to her and squinted. “Come out, I mean.”

“Oh. Um.” Merlin tensed. _No_. “I don’t think so.”

“He’s asked me,” Gwen said, and looked at Merlin with an open expression. “Not if you were gay or anything. Just about if you dated.”

Merlin nodded and took a deep breath, exhaling in relief. He’d wondered when this topic was going to come up. He was grateful Arthur hadn’t asked him directly, but he’d been waiting to be asked. What’d you tell him?”

“I told him you had tons of admirers, but that he’d have to ask you himself why you weren’t dating.” 

Merlin looked out onto the field and tried to imagine it. Telling Arthur. It was impossible. “It feels like too much to lose, and I don’t think he’d…I don’t think…” He felt the words lodge in his throat.

“It’s okay. I get it.” Gwen petted his damp hair. “But you should think about it. Seems like he’s gonna find out eventually anyway.” 

Merlin nodded again. It sounded logical, but he knew he was as likely to voluntarily come out to Arthur as he was to go to the moon. “God, this match is never going to end,” he said, and let his head fall back against the bench. 

It did end, and he and Gwen waited for the teams to shake hands before they picked their way down the bleachers. Gwaine and Arthur were looking toward them as they came off the field. He saw Gwaine say something to Arthur, and Arthur flinched. Arthur’s face went from cracked open with a smile to creased brow and downturned mouth in a split second. Gwaine wasn’t watching Arthur’s response, instead grinning at Merlin as they got closer. By the time they reached Gwen and Merlin, Arthur had returned a smile, not quite enough to convince Merlin, to his face.

“Congrats, boys,” said Gwen, putting up her palm for a high-five. Arthur clasped her hand instead and twisted her arm down, spinning her a bit. He was ghostly white and bright red at the neck from the exertion. Gwen wriggled out of Arthur’s sweaty grip and laughed. “You need a shower.”

“Oh, do I?” 

Gwaine clapped him on the back and Arthur tensed, but didn’t pull away. “I think we all stink to high heaven.”

Merlin couldn’t decipher what was going on between Arthur and Gwaine. “Not much of a match. Were they awful, or what?” he asked, wondering if Arthur’s discomfort had anything to do with his play. 

Gwaine rubbed sweat out of his eyes with the side of his palm. “Mediocre, not awful. They don’t have Arthur,” and he gave Arthur another little shove. 

Arthur grinned more believably this time. “Lance is gonna have to start looking for some competition, or this is going to turn into a clinic.”

“Ah, modesty, my favourite trait,” said Gwen. 

Merlin pulled his damp T-shirt back on. He looked past Arthur and saw Lance and Elyan picking up discarded towels and the balls they’d brought to the field, empty water bottles and assorted trash on the sidelines. “We should go help them,” he said, nodding in their direction. 

“I’ll pitch in,” offered Gwaine, “but I think someone should get your cousin here some water. He might be a little dehydrated.” Gwaine didn’t sound like he was joking, and now that he mentioned it, Arthur really did look more spent than Merlin had ever seen him. Merlin wasn’t sure Arthur had much experience playing in heat like this. But Arthur didn’t miss a beat, just turned and trotted off in Lance and Elyan’s direction. “He’s impossible.”

Gwaine followed after Arthur, and Merlin and Gwen went along to pick up what they could. Almost everything had been gathered by the time they pitched in, and the six of them plunked themselves down on the players’ bench. “So, mates, where’s the party tonight?” Arthur’s words were betrayed by the lifelessness to his voice. Merlin inspected Arthur through the glare and thought he’d better get him into the shade soon.

“I was thinking I’d head uptown. You in?” asked Elyan. Lance’s eyes flitted to Gwen before he nodded. Arthur was leaning into Gwen’s side, and Merlin wondered how Lance was taking this development. 

“I’m out,” said Gwaine, and as was more often than not these days, he spoke to Merlin as though the response was for him. “John’s on leave, so we’re catching up tonight.”

“Oh yeah,” Merlin said, “Will’s been spending some time with him this week.” Will and John had never been close, but it seemed like Will was wanting to make an effort since he’d joined the Marines and he didn’t see him as much. 

“I’m in tonight,” said Arthur, and he noticed Gwen’s frown. So far little sister hadn’t been invited to any of Elyan’s college friends’ parties. 

Elyan must have noticed Gwen’s expression. “You and Merlin can come, if Dad’ll let you stay out that late.”

She looked like she was considering it, but Merlin knew he wasn’t up for it. As much as getting away to college excited him, the thought of braving a party full of people so much older than he, nearly all strangers, was more than he had the energy to take on. “Sorry, not me. Curfew.”

Gwen looked conflicted, but shook her head. “Yeah, I doubt Dad will let me. Me and Merlin will go to a movie or something.” 

Arthur pinched her side, “Aw, come on! You should both come.” Arthur swatted Merlin on the back of the head. “I’ll talk to Auntie.” 

Merlin bristled. He knew his mum would relent, but he wasn’t interested. “You go Gwen, if you want. I’m beat anyway. This heat is killing me.”

Gwen gave a reluctant nod, and they all roused themselves to head home. They walked slowly in the direction of Fort Greene, the pavements mercifully shaded at this time of day. The heat hadn’t abated, but the glare was turned down a notch, and it felt like a late afternoon thunderstorm might break this apart. They paired off as they walked, Merlin and Gwaine at the back of the pack, Arthur and Gwen just ahead of them. Arthur looked listless, sapped of energy as he and Gwen walked nearly silently. Gwaine asked him about the classes he was starting soon, and he said as little as possible about the arrangement. 

“What about you?” Merlin asked. “You never said who you’ve joined up with. Marines, like John?

“Yep,” Gwaine responded. “I’m in it for the glory, you know?” 

Merlin chuckled. As sarcastic as Gwaine sounded, he didn’t doubt there was an element of glory-seeking in the decision. “You said August?”

“First week.” Gwaine’s smile dropped into a straight line and he looked down at the pavement. 

They walked on in silence for a moment. It was soon, Merlin realised. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. 

“Hey, what are you doing for the Fourth?” Gwaine’s smile animated his face again.

Merlin shrugged. “No plans yet.”

“Fireworks, then party at my place on the Fourth!” Gwaine called to the rest of the group. “Who’s in?”

Elyan had other plans, but the rest of them were immediately on board, and when they parted ways, Merlin felt his mood elevate at Gwaine’s excited wave and “See you Wednesday!” 

Merlin forced Arthur to stop at a corner store to buy a bottle of water before they got home. Arthur downed it before they reached their building, but Merlin doubted it was enough to head off a crash. They slogged up to the apartment and Arthur went straight for the shower, Merlin for the couch. The heat had infiltrated even the living room, but it was nothing like the heat of midday on the field had been. The ceiling fan whirred overhead and Merlin closed his eyes, letting the breeze dry the sweat on his body. His skin felt hot from the burn that had started. He was nearly asleep when Arthur padded past him into the bedroom. 

“Hey, mate. I think I have to lie down. I’m not feeling great.”

“Good idea.” Merlin hoisted himself up to get in a quick shower before he passed out himself. 

The hot water made Merlin dizzy, and he thought he’d probably gotten mildly dehydrated himself. As soon as he got out and let the steam escape from the bathroom, he felt his body begin to cool off. He didn’t want to put his sweaty shorts back on, so he went back to his room with a towel around his hips, cursing himself for forgetting to bring a change of clothes with him. He’d managed to avoid undressing completely in front of Arthur in the two weeks they’d shared a room, and tried casually to look away whenever Arthur got out of his pants. He knew it was suspicious to be prudish about nudity, but it was better than the alternative. 

The door to his room stood open, and the fan on his desk was wobbling at full speed in the direction of the bed. Arthur lay on his back on top of the duvet in his boxer briefs and barely looked up when Merlin came in. Merlin went straight for the chest of drawers and pulled out a pair of boxers, keeping his eyes away from Arthur and hoping Arthur’s were closed as he quickly dropped his towel, his back to the bed, and bent over to pull on his boxers. Merlin turned around slowly, his heart pounding in his chest, feeling silly for getting so worked up about changing in front of his cousin. But when he turned around, Arthur’s eyes were on him, watching him closely. Merlin felt the blood rush to his face impossibly, not sure how he could get any hotter.

“You’re burnt,” said Arthur, his voice hoarse. 

“Oh, yeah,” Merlin said, and he forced his shaky legs to get him to the edge of the bed and over Arthur’s shins to his territory on the mattress. 

Arthur turned on his side toward Merlin and poked at the reddened skin over Merlin’s ribs. He hissed in sympathy. “You need some aloe.”

“It’s fine,” Merlin said, his skin jumping where Arthur’s fingers brushed lightly. “You look shattered, Arthur.”

“I feel like crap. My head is pounding.”

“You need more water. Should I get you some?” Merlin wasn’t sure he could get up again now that he’d let himself off his feet, but it probably would do to get some lotion on his skin.

“Nah, I’ll get it.” Arthur groaned as he pulled himself off the bed. “Where’s the aloe?”

“There’s some kind of lotion stuff in the cabinet under the sink in the bathroom.”

Merlin let his eyes close while he waited for Arthur, and worked to keep his mind still, distracted by the heat of his skin and the lingering coolness imprinted from Arthur’s touch. It was useless. He saw spots behind his eyes, strained from the day’s light, but there were other images too, flashing against the spots, of bodies in motion: things Merlin had seen and didn’t want to think about and things he’d never seen but that danced behind his lids sometimes when his thoughts went out of control.

Arthur returned and Merlin couldn’t open his eyes. He felt the mattress sink under Arthur’s weight and breathed shallowly, wondering if sleep might offer him an escape from his own skin. “Hey.” 

Merlin opened a single eye and saw the blurry shape of Arthur hanging over him, a bottle of lotion in his hand. It took a second for Merlin’s mind to catch up with the movement in front of him, and then it clicked and he scrambled onto his elbows.

“I can do that,” he said, reaching for the lotion. Arthur was faster, and had already poured some onto his hand. 

“I got it. Your back is probably roasted too.” Merlin watched, his mouth open in mute protest, as Arthur put his palm to Merlin’s chest. The cool of the lotion was immediate relief, but the warmth of Arthur’s hand underneath it followed, and Merlin could only hold his breath and hope to will the blood rushing from his head from going straight to his cock. 

“Lie down,” Arthur said, and Merlin let his elbows slide until he was flat on his back. He didn’t dare close his eyes, kept them fixed on the ceiling, and tensed to keep from flinching away from the caress of Arthur’s hand over his skin, rough over his nipples, and then down his abdomen. He sucked in his breath when Arthur’s fingers skimmed the side of his waist and Arthur chuckled. “Ticklish?”

Merlin looked at Arthur then. He still looked pale, tired from the sun and the match. But Arthur’s eyes were bright and he was watching his own hand on Merlin’s skin. Arthur’s legs were tucked under him on the bed, and Merlin’s gaze went unconsciously to the soft bulge in his boxer briefs. Merlin flicked his eyes back to Arthur’s face and found him distracted, thankfully. “A bit,” Merlin answered, and exhaled. “That it?” _Please let me turn over._

Arthur started to speak but only rough sound came out. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, turn over.”

Merlin turned away from Arthur and pressed himself into the mattress, berating himself for letting this happen. Arthur scooted closer, and this time his hands worked quickly over Merlin’s shoulders and back. The lotion soothed. Even Arthur’s most efficient touch lit something in Merlin. He worried at the silence and Arthur’s odd tension. It must be obvious, Merlin thought. _God, this is so fucked up._ He wanted to tell Arthur to stop, to put his own head under the pillow and sleep this away, but then Arthur’s hand was at his lower back and he couldn’t breathe. 

The quick motion slowed, lingered, almost as though Arthur had forgotten what he was doing. Merlin’s pulse was knocking at his throat and his buttocks clenched, hips canting into the mattress, a small, unmistakable movement. Arthur had to notice. The hand didn’t jerk away though. Instead Arthur’s fingers pressed and ran over the dip and rise of his lower back, and it almost felt like Arthur’s pinkie had slipped under the waist of Merlin’s boxers, skimming the cleft of his arse. Merlin bit the inside of his cheek and felt himself harden, wondering how his imagination could produce such palpable sensation.

Arthur shifted next to him suddenly. His hand removed, and then Merlin heard what sounded like the lotion being placed on the bedside table. Arthur felt further away now, but Merlin didn’t dare look; he kept his eyes on the wall and his cheek buried into the pillow. Then Arthur was scuffing toward the door. “Gonna get more water,” he said, still hoarse, and disappeared. 

As soon as Arthur was out the door, Merlin brought his hand underneath him to palm his erection. He rubbed and bit his tongue against a groan, and _fuck fuck_ , he needed to get off so badly but there was no way. He was going to have to lie there until he could get past Arthur to the shower, or hope to sleep this off. Merlin held himself tight in his palm, listening for Arthur’s steps but not sure he could hear them over the rushing in his ears and the clattering of the fan. He rolled to his side and the air from the fan cooled his back. He tried to let it distract him from his arousal, but there was nothing louder than the need between his legs. He was leaking into his boxers, and he let himself give a couple quick, tight strokes before he forced himself back onto his stomach and pressed himself as flat as he could into the mattress. 

Arthur was gone longer than it took to get a glass of water. Still hard, Merlin did at last give way to exhaustion after he relaxed away from the fear of Arthur walking in on him. He was sinking into sleep when Arthur’s weight dipped the bed again. “You asleep?” Arthur whispered.

Merlin didn’t answer immediately. Nearly, he thought. If you’d let me be. He let a moment pass, hoping he’d be asleep before he answered. Finally, “Mmm.”

Arthur lay down next to him and it was silent again. Merlin thought maybe he’d find his way to sleep, but Arthur’s wakefulness kept him alert. Merlin’s arousal had lessened, cock still half-hard underneath him, but the buzz of it on his skin had quieted, his limbs and joints like jelly after the tension. He let himself shift so that his face was turned to Arthur, and discovered Arthur lying on his stomach, elbows bent and head pillowed on his hands, looking at him. “Sorry if I woke you.”

“I wasn’t really asleep.”

“I think I overdid it today in the heat.” Arthur’s voice was thick with exhaustion, but his gaze was intense; sharp blue focused on Merlin like Arthur was looking for something.

“You’re crazy. You killed that other team,” Merlin answered, not sure what drove Arthur when he got hyper-competitive. 

“First match, I guess. Didn’t want to disappoint.”

Merlin nodded into the pillow, thinking how unlikely that was.

“How well do you know those guys?” Arthur’s eyes continued to search his face.

“Lance? Elyan?”

Arthur nodded. “And Gwaine.”

“I don’t know. I’ve sort of known them since I moved here, but not very well, you know?” Arthur was fishing, he could tell, though he wasn’t certain what for. “Elyan was two years ahead in school. Lance is only a year ahead, and he was always around at Gwen’s, but he’s not someone who ever paid much attention to me.”

“He paid attention to Gwen,” said Arthur.

“Yeah, he did. I think more when I wasn’t around, but he always seems to watch her.”

Arthur nodded. Merlin wondered if Arthur was jealous. The look on his face hadn’t changed, and Merlin couldn’t read him. There was something behind the questioning that Merlin was missing. “What about Gwaine?”

“Same. I didn’t really know him much ‘til we had a class together this year. We never hung out. I remember him hanging out with John when we were younger, and he’s been over at Gwen’s over the years. I think that night you got here is the first time I’d ever hung out with him outside of school.”

Arthur planted his elbow into the mattress and propped his head up in his hand. “What do you think of them?”

Merlin had seen nothing but easy friendship developing between his cousin and the older circle of friends who were slowly becoming his friends as well. It should have seemed remarkable how easily Arthur had knitted together his social scene, but it was Arthur, so it hadn’t. He wondered if he’d missed something. “I like them. Lance is totally even, you know? I’ve always thought Elyan was decent. He and Gwen aren’t super close, but I know she looks up to him.” He was having a hard time finding the words to describe what he thought of Gwaine.

“And Gwaine?” Arthur wasn’t satisfied. Merlin could hear it in the tone of his voice.

Merlin flipped on his back and blew air through puffed cheeks, trying and failing at nonchalance. “I don’t know. He’s nice. He seems like—he’s a weird mix of like—I don’t know. He’s cool.” 

Arthur hadn’t stopped watching him. “Yeah,” Arthur said. 

“What about you?” Merlin asked, hoping he could figure out what this was about. “Does it bother you that Lance—I mean, that Gwen—”

Arthur looked confused for a moment, or like he wasn’t listening, then shook his head. “That he’s hung up on Gwen, and Gwen’s basically waiting for him?” 

Merlin was surprised by Arthur’s choice of words. He didn’t think Gwen was waiting for Lance, at least not like that. Merlin knew of at least one guy she’d dated in the last year. “Yeah.”

Arthur turned his eyes to the ceiling. “Nah, not really. I like Gwen. She’s super smart. But—I don’t know—it’s nothing—no, it doesn’t bother me.”

“So, what you do you think of those guys?” Merlin was nervous. He wanted Arthur to be happy here, and it seemed like he had been. 

“They’re great,” said Arthur, his gaze distant now, voice noncommittal. He thought for a moment and slowly brought his eyes back to Merlin. “I, um—they’re really cool. I like them all. I just—”

“What?”

“I don’t know. Something about Gwaine.” 

Merlin’s stomach rolled in a familiar way. He willed Arthur not to say what he expected him to say. “Something?” Merlin turned his head into his pillow, as though he could shield himself from the words.

“Yeah, don’t get me wrong, I really like him. He’s a blast. I just—I think you shouldn’t get too close to him.” 

Merlin hadn’t been expecting that. He had no idea what to say. 

Arthur reached over and pressed a thumb in between Merlin’s half-buried brows. “You’re all scrunched up,” he said. 

Merlin twisted and sat up then, his arousal gone. “I don’t get it.”

“I can’t explain,” said Arthur, who peered up at him. “I know he seems cool. And he is. I just think, for someone your age—”

“My age?” Merlin had raised his voice. He didn’t mean to, but it was the first time since that first night that Arthur had said anything about his age in regards to the people now becoming their mutual friends, and this time it sounded like an insult. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Calm down, calm down,” said Arthur, and he sat up too. Merlin fluffed the pillow behind him and leaned against the wall. He glared at Arthur, waiting for him to make some sense. “Look, I don’t know. I think sometimes he’s got ulterior motives. And he’s—it’s hard, when you’re—”

“I’m not a child, Arthur,” Merlin said through gritted teeth. 

“Jesus, I know, Merlin. Fuck, I know.” Arthur looked to him as though he were hoping Merlin could snatch his meaning out of the air. “I know you’re not a child anymore and you’re mature for your age, and so smart, Merlin. I mean, Christ, I know all that. But you’re still just sixteen. And he’s—”

“Why is this about Gwaine, and not Lance? Or Elyan, who’s even older?” Merlin knew it was dangerous to push this, but Arthur hadn’t gotten to the point he thought he was going to get to, and now he was too angry to skirt the danger.

“Because you’re not—because it seems like you and Gwaine could be friends, you know, I mean in a way that’s different from you and Lance, or Elyan. Like nothing to do with me.” 

Merlin’s mind spun for a second. What the hell was this about? “So I’m not supposed to have friends apart from you?” 

“Oh, Jesus, Merlin, you know that’s not what I mean.” Arthur looked frustrated with himself now. “I’m not putting this well. I mean that, like you said, you never really hung out with these guys before because they’re older, but now you do. In part because they’re closer to my age. But with Gwaine, it seems like you and he could be friends regardless.”

“Yeah,” he said. Merlin understood that much, but needed Arthur to put it in more concrete terms. “And?”

“And I think that you should be careful, that’s all. I mean, it’s fine, I guess, if you wanna be his friend. I would just be careful.” Arthur was flushed, his fingers dug into his hair. He didn’t seem satisfied with what he’d said.

“I don’t really get what you’re talking about. You guys get along great.” Merlin was still angry. Although he was grateful not to have heard anything truly hateful come out of Arthur’s mouth, it sounded like patronising crap to him. “But whatever. I’m always careful.”

Arthur nodded and frowned. “Yeah, sure.” He rubbed his chin absentmindedly with his fingers and then flopped down on the bed. “Sorry. I don’t want you to think I don’t like Gwaine. I really do. I’m just protective of you, that’s all.”

Merlin felt his mouth twist into a smirk. “You’re an arse. Protecting me from Gwaine? You make it sound like he’s a shark or something. We chat at your practices. You think he’s going to teach me the ways of the shark?”

Arthur chuckled but didn’t look amused. “Something like that, maybe.” 

They were silent then, and Merlin lay down again. He was exhausted. His body temperature had come down, but his skin was still hot from the burn. His curtains were drawn, but they let in light, and it looked like it was getting darker outside. It was probably late afternoon, far too early for the sun to go down. “Another storm,” Merlin said, curling up on the bed, facing Arthur this time because he was too confused by the flip-flopping emotions of the past hour to turn away.

“I hope so,” Arthur said a moment later. “I love the thunderstorms here.”

Merlin agreed.

There was a storm, brief and never precisely overhead, but through the fog of sleep Merlin was aware of rain and rumble loud enough to drown out the street noises. When he woke, it was almost dark in the room, and the bed was empty. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, and checked the clock to see it was just after eight p.m. His mother would be home from her shift soon. 

Merlin pulled on a pair of shorts and found Arthur in the kitchen, dressed to go out in thin jeans and a black T-shirt. He didn’t look much better than he had earlier. “Hey, sleepyhead. I cooked some eggs. Want some?”

Merlin shook his head and sank into a chair, careful not to scrape his back. His burn was worse than he’d thought. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shite, to be honest. My head is still pounding. But I took some painkiller.” Arthur fiddled with his napkin. “I’ll be fine.”

“Dehydration is no joke. You might wanna take it easy tonight.”

“Yes, Mum,” Arthur said, and he stuck out his tongue at Merlin. He was silent for a moment, peering into his empty plate. He kicked Merlin under the table. “Sorry. About earlier.”

It took a second for Merlin to remember their conversation; he had so many things he was feeling sorry for himself. “S’okay.”

“I was being an arse.” 

“Yeah.”

Arthur fidgeted with his cutlery a moment later and got up to clear his plate. 

“You okay?” Merlin asked. “I mean, apart from nearly killing yourself over a stupid game?”

Arthur didn’t answer him, just dropped his plate into the sink and leaned back against the worktop. Then he slowly shook his head as though he were listening to bad news. “Dad’s got pancreatic cancer. Morgana called this morning.”

Merlin reeled for a second. He hadn’t thought to ask after his uncle for over a week now. “Shit, that sounds bad.”

“Morgana says they caught it early, but it’s—yeah, it could be bad.”

Merlin watched Arthur, who stopped fidgeting, focused on Merlin and communicated in silence. Merlin didn’t have any words, but Arthur didn’t ask for any. He just watched Merlin, and took a moment before shoving off the worktop and coming over to place an affectionate hand at the back of Merlin’s neck. “I’m glad I’m here. I know that sounds awful, but there it is.”

Merlin looked up at Arthur and nodded. “I’m glad, too.”

“Fuck, Merlin, that burn is brutal.” Arthur’s hand slid off his neck and he stepped back. “You need more lotion on that.” 

“I’m fine,” he said, too quickly. 

“Come with me tonight.” Arthur’s voice was close to pleading. It tugged at him, but there was nothing he wanted to do less than go along to a party with Arthur and Gwen.

“Sorry, not a chance. I’m beat. I’ve got work to do for class next week anyway.”

“It’s a Saturday night!”

Merlin got up, feeling uncomfortable, again, in this limbo space with Arthur hovering around his exposed body. “Yep.” He gave an exaggerated yawn and stretched his arms, and padded off for the living room. 

“Killjoy!”

~o~O~o~

Merlin did very little work, in the end. He sat at the kitchen table with his mum, and she told him what she knew of Uther’s cancer. It was serious, but she wasn’t sure how bad yet. She reassured him that both Uther and Morgana thought it was better Arthur stayed in New York through mid-September as planned. “Can’t have the boy here playing nursemaid,” Uther had told Hunith. Merlin thought it was a perverse way to describe having your son by your side through an illness, but he was grateful he got to keep Arthur. He felt badly for Morgana.

Merlin turned in early and managed to push the plague of worry away, to sleep hard. Hours later, he was awakened by the sound of a raised voice and then shushing, and the stumbling of more than two feet. He sat up in bed and waited for the bedroom door to open, half expecting Arthur to appear with Gwen. It was Lance who opened the door, holding most of Arthur’s weight, Arthur’s arm slung around his shoulder. “Help me,” Lance whispered as he managed to drag Arthur through the doorway.

Merlin jumped up and got on Arthur’s other side, helping Lance get him down into the bed. Arthur was conscious, barely, and woozy drunk. “Your boy here had a bit too much,” Lance said, letting Arthur’s head hit the pillow and standing up to survey the wreckage.

“Hardly anyfing,” Arthur mumbled, and his eyes lolled back in his head.

Merlin rolled his eyes and sat by Arthur’s side, starting to pull off his trainers and socks. “Might have been the dehydration,” he offered.

“Could be. I was feeling it too,” Lance agreed. “You gonna be okay?” Merlin wasn’t sure if Lance was asking Arthur or him, but he sighed and nodded for them both. “Elyan got Gwen home but I should get going. Sorry.”

“Not your fault.” 

Arthur tried to raise his head and nearly managed an indignant expression. “He ‘pologising for me?”

Merlin pushed Arthur back down on the bed. “Yep.”

Merlin locked the door behind Lance and got a glass of water for Arthur along with some painkiller, and came back to the room to find Arthur struggling to get out of his jeans. He didn’t offer to help, just watched as Arthur shimmied out of them, nearly pulling his boxer briefs down in the process. “Fuck,” he slurred, then dropped back in the bed when he’d finally kicked the denim off his ankles. It took him another minute to fight his way out of his T-shirt. “I’m a fecking mess, cuz.”

“Here, take these.” Merlin held the glass for Arthur and helped him get the pills down. “Sleep.”

“Room’s spinning.”

Merlin climbed over Arthur and flopped back. “Think of it like a roller-coaster ride. And don’t puke in my bed.”

“Never do,” Arthur said. Moments later, Arthur was breathing roughly from the back of his throat, and Merlin was left restless by Arthur’s side.

Merlin woke to the feeling of little daggers in the skin of his chest and his shoulder, and something hot and tight wrapping itself around his side. Fingers. They were Arthur’s fingers digging into his sunburnt skin where he was clinging to him. Merlin stretched and tried to shake Arthur free and Arthur groaned. Something in the pitch of Arthur’s voice and the growing awareness of Arthur shifting against him made him open an eye. The light was pale, just less than dark, maybe five o’clock. Arthur’s eyes were closed but he was moving, and Merlin wriggled harder to get free of Arthur’s grasp. A hard shove shook Arthur loose and Arthur groaned, louder now. “Fuck,” Arthur hissed, and Merlin looked down the bed. Arthur’s hand came down and went under the waistband of his briefs to fist his erection. 

Merlin froze for a second, torn between the intense pull of that sight and the instinct to flee. He’s drunk, he reminded himself. Still drunk. It had probably been less than two hours since Arthur had passed out in his bed. 

But Arthur wasn’t stroking himself carelessly; he was lying almost tense now, his hand around his dick, his eyes closed but his face aware somehow. “Merlin?” His voice was low and loose from alcohol. 

“Arthur, go back to sleep.”

“So fucking horny.” Arthur’s eyes slid open a crack and he looked down his own body. 

Merlin sucked in some air and tried to not to stare at the sight of Arthur’s wrist disappearing into his briefs, the unmistakable length of him, and the intoxicating scratch in his voice. “Go take a shower.”

Arthur grunted in amusement. “That where you take care of it?”

Merlin hated the way he reacted in embarrassment. But if Arthur knew what Merlin thought about when he…he couldn’t even think it. “Yeah,” he said, quietly. Arthur stroked himself then, just once, and bit his lip. “I’m just gonna…” Merlin started to scoot, thinking he’d at least get out of the room. But Arthur’s free hand shot out and planted itself on his lower back before he’d gotten half a foot down the bed.

“Don’t.” Arthur lifted himself on an elbow and opened bloodshot eyes to him. Arthur still had himself in hand, but he looked more lost than aroused. “Sorry, don’t run away.” He fell back down on his back and looked up at the ceiling. “Still drunk.”

“I know. Why don’t you just let me leave you for a minute?” Merlin half hoped Arthur would pass out again, but he didn’t seem drunk enough for that.

Arthur took shallow breaths through his nose and Merlin watched his chest rising and falling, the golden skin flushed from sleep and drink, and damp with sweat. His own cock stirred, and he cursed himself for not getting out the second he understood what was happening. It was the second time in not much more than twelve hours that Arthur had gotten him hard. He started to slide cautiously down the bed again. 

“Merlin?”

“Yeah?” Every muscle was alert now, the sleep having been chased from his body.

“Gonna have a wank,” Arthur said, his voice slurred enough that Merlin could hope Arthur wouldn’t remember this later. “No need to run.” 

There was a split second when Merlin contemplated staying, but his own body was screaming at him now and it scared him into action. “Gotta piss, anyway,” he said, and shot out of bed and out the door before Arthur could stop him.

Once in the bathroom he shut the door and sat on the edge of the tub, catching his breath. _Fucking shit_. He’d thought he was handling things okay until now. But Arthur’s trusting way of needing him made Merlin want all the wrong things, and he hated himself for it. He was tired from the broken sleep, aching from the sunburn, and half-hard now. It wasn’t time to get up, and he didn’t want to wake himself up in the shower. He needed to touch himself, but he was too ashamed of the image in his head that drove his arousal to let himself do that. So he forced himself to take a piss and then sat on the closed toilet seat until his body calmed down.

Merlin couldn’t bring himself to go back to bed, so he went in search of coffee and left Arthur to sleep off the alcohol. He hoped Arthur would take care of the sheets when he sobered up enough to realise what he’d done. His mum slept in that morning, and he had the kitchen to himself for an hour. He spent the time making promises to himself that he was going to get a grip on this, making mental lists of things he could do to avoid allowing anything like the last day and night to happen again, and berating himself for all the ways he was likely to fail.

~o~O~o~

By Wednesday, Merlin was feeling less troubled. He’d managed to get back into a routine with Arthur that felt safe. Arthur never mentioned the events of Saturday night, and on Monday had thrown himself back into work. John went back to base, and Elena had left for theatre camp, so Will was free again to occupy his time. Merlin told himself it wasn’t on purpose, but he’d been out each night when Arthur got home from work, and then asleep before Arthur came in from his time out with Gwen or the guys. So he succumbed easily to Arthur’s pleas to spend his day off with him in Manhattan, the vows he’d made to himself from Sunday morning feeling well kept.

Arthur was giddy about the holiday, both for the day off and for the novelty of it. They got a late start and ate sandwiches they’d packed for themselves in Battery Park. They took the ferry to the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island, and spent more than an hour at the museum there. It was a revelation to see these things through Arthur’s eyes, to see his mind putting the pieces of history together and making meaning out of it. More and more, Merlin had begun to think of Arthur as someone with vision, and it filled him with pride to watch it happening by his side. Merlin had been told he was special by his mum, and by a handful of others, his whole life. He had unusual abilities. But he had nothing like Arthur’s noble goals. Merlin wanted the world to be a safe place for himself, for the people he loved. Arthur wanted the world to be a better place for everyone.

When dusk approached, they took the train back to Brooklyn and had a quick bite to eat before they met their friends in DUMBO to watch the fireworks over the river. The crowds were thick and the view was poor, but Merlin was elated from the day, and even in some way relieved to have Gwen by Arthur’s side. It gave him the freedom to relax into Will’s company and let go of some of the guilt and worry of the past weekend. 

And Gwaine. Lance and Gwaine were there in easy companionship. If Lance’s eyes slid to Gwen occasionally, he still radiated contentment like no one Merlin had ever met. Merlin was a little nervous about being around Gwaine after Arthur’s misfired warning, and he found himself consciously ignoring Arthur while he spoke to Gwaine. But if Arthur was reacting to he and Gwaine, Merlin wasn’t aware of it.

After the fireworks, they shared a couple of cabs back to Gwaine’s apartment and packed into the small living room with a case of beer and a stack of quarters. Arthur was cocky, boasting of his dominance on the night Merlin had introduced him to the game more than two years earlier. Arthur underestimated Gwaine and Lance. Even Merlin had gotten a little better in the past year. Gwen was a decent shot, but a lightweight drinker. Will was a crap shot, but could hold his drink like nobody he knew. Gwaine and Lance were hardly affected, while the rest of them drank too much. “I think it’s time to call it quits before someone passes out,” Lance announced. 

“Were you born a stick in the mud?” Gwaine teased. Gwaine and Lance were so unalike, it wasn’t clear how they navigated a friendship. Yet it seemed to work for them. Lance chuckled at Gwaine’s ribbing.

Merlin leaned back on his hands, his legs straight out in front, digging his little finger into the matted carpet. He was the best kind of drunk, cut loose. He was aware of Gwaine watching him, and wished he had something easy to say. He felt Lance’s eyes on him too, flitting between him and Gwaine.

“So how’d you end up with Gwaine as a lab partner, anyway? They let you skip ahead?” Lance asked.

“Yeah, sort of.” Merlin generally winced at these questions, but Lance didn’t seem the type to rag on him for it.

“Merlin’s a bloody genius,” Arthur drawled from the couch, a slight edge to his voice. Merlin was aware of Gwen’s body tucked tightly against Arthur’s, knew Arthur was drunk. He kept his focus on Gwaine, who was stripping a beer bottle of its label directly across from him over the coffee table and smiling. “He’s only sixteen, eh, Merlin?” 

Merlin flushed. What the fuck? Gwen and Will knew how old he was, but he’d never mentioned it to Gwaine, and there was no reason for Lance to know. It wasn’t a secret, but something in Arthur’s sneering tone made him feel ashamed. He ducked his head as soon as he heard it and picked at his own beer bottle, hoping Arthur would be ignored.

“Is that true, Merlin?” asked Lance. He sounded genuinely surprised, and Merlin nodded, not wanting to meet Gwaine’s eyes. “Late birthday?”

Merlin wanted to leave it at that, but in fact he’d just celebrated his birthday in May. “I skipped a year,” he mumbled.

“Knew you were special.” This came quietly from Gwaine, and prompted Merlin to look up finally to meet his eyes. Gwaine’s expression was hard to read, but softer than he expected. Sheepish, perhaps? But not mocking.

“I just like science, is all. I muddle my way through the rest.”

“That’s a lie, you brainy bastard,” said Will, and he elbowed Merlin in the side, helping to puncture some of the anger Arthur’s tone had aroused. His mouth curled up despite himself as Will poked a finger at his ribs, pushing until he got a reckless giggle out of him. Will always knew how to distract Merlin when he started to get sullen. “He’s gonna win the Nobel Prize for chemistry someday. Mark my words.” And then Will’s fingers got him right under the rib, where he was most ticklish, and Merlin doubled over and pushed him away, laughing.

“Quit it, you dumbass.” He could feel the heat in his ears and his neck, but the anger was gone as he caught his breath and got himself more or less upright, still cross-legged at the coffee table. 

There was a small silence and then Gwaine cut in, louder this time. “Chemistry, is that your thing?”

Merlin met Gwaine’s eyes. They were dancing with something. “Yeah, I guess. It’s my favourite.”

“That makes sense.”

Merlin looked at Gwaine for further explanation, still studiously avoiding Arthur on the couch. His peripheral vision told him that Arthur was watching them intently, even as Gwen snuggled half-asleep into his side.

“Do tell,” said Lance, raising his eyebrows at Gwaine.

“Potions, explosions, and that magical thing you just can’t explain: chemistry. Merlin is a little magic, don’t you think?” Gwaine kept his eyes fixed on Merlin while he spoke, not letting him hide from the flirtatious words. Merlin’s heart rate picked up, but he managed to keep his composure. Something about Arthur’s watchful eye forced him to keep his cool.

Will fidgeted beside him, obviously not sure what to say, and Lance gave Gwaine what looked like a reproachful glare. Gwaine smiled widely at Merlin, unapologetic.

“S’true.” It was Gwen, not asleep after all, humming into Arthur’s shoulder. “Merlin is a little magic. I’ve always said that.” 

Arthur had said it too. He wondered if Arthur remembered. The thought distracted him for a moment from the awkwardness of Gwaine’s compliment, which felt more like a come-on. Merlin managed to find his wit and his words in that moment and put on a warm smile for Gwaine. “You think I’m gonna bewitch you?”

Gwaine winked then, and said, quietly so that possibly only Merlin could hear, “Already have,” as he tipped the beer bottle back for a swig.

“Oh Jesus, you’re such a cheese ball, Gwaine.” Lance laughed at his friend. Apparently Lance had heard, and Merlin grinned stupidly, hoping Arthur hadn’t. 

Merlin had permission to break curfew, but he and Gwen both needed to be home by one and it was getting late. From Gwaine’s apartment, neither of them had far to walk, and the streets were still alive with Fourth of July revellers. Still, Arthur resisted letting Merlin walk home alone, and wasn’t keen on letting Gwen walk to her place in the opposite direction. 

“Merlin, why don’t you come with me and Gwen and then we can walk home together.” 

Merlin couldn’t imagine a less appealing plan, especially given that he had a faint hope he might get to talk to Gwaine alone for at least a few minutes.

“I’m headed in Gwen’s direction,” Will said. Merlin gave Will a grateful smile. Will couldn’t have missed Gwaine’s flirting, and it remained a mystery to him what Will thought of it all. 

“Great, you all can head that way and I’ll walk Merlin home,” Gwaine offered. They were standing now, picking up bottles and gathering their things to go. Merlin noticed Arthur’s back stiffen. He looked like he was about to protest, but Lance intervened.

“I’ll walk with you. Could use some air.” Lance was a perpetual couch surfer, as far as Merlin could tell. He was always at Elyan’s, and tonight had plans to crash with Gwaine. He wasn’t sure what Lance’s home life was like, but it was clearly a place he avoided when he could.

Arthur relaxed slightly and nodded, holding the door open for them all as they shuffled out into the stairwell and clambered down the single flight of steps onto the sidewalk. The humidity of the weekend had lifted, and it was almost pleasant out. Gwen gave Merlin an aggressive hug goodnight and said, “Have fun,” into his neck as she released him. Will left him with his usual nudge to the shoulder. And Arthur made a point of telling him he’d be home shortly, as soon as he’d dropped Gwen off. 

Merlin had to resist rolling his eyes as he set off between Gwaine and Lance in the direction of home. 

A block away from home, Lance stopped on the corner and looked around until his gaze lit on the nearest bodega. “I need to pick up something to eat for the morning. Early start,” he said, vaguely. “I’ll meet you back here, Gwaine, if that’s okay?” 

Gwaine nodded, and Merlin was about to protest that he could walk the last block by himself, but Gwaine steered him off before he could speak up. “Bye,” Merlin called over his shoulder to Lance.

And then they were alone. A few steps later, he felt Gwaine’s fingers slide down the inside of his arm, across his palm, and weave themselves between his own. Gwaine halted and tugged on Merlin to stop his forward momentum. He squeezed Merlin’s hand as he pulled him the step back, and the small thrill of it danced up Merlin’s arm and into his chest. Merlin had imagined moments like this, but his imagination had done little to supply him with the cool acceptance he wanted to exude. Instead, he stumbled a little toward Gwaine and found himself looking down at his feet. 

“Hey,” said Gwaine, and he lifted Merlin’s chin until their eyes met. “Is this okay?” Gwaine raised their hands together and squeezed, and Merlin nodded. “Good.” Gwaine’s smile relaxed Merlin enough to breathe, and he tried not to fidget as he stood there holding Gwaine’s hand. “Can we talk, for a second?”

“Sure.” He and Gwaine stepped out of the middle of the sidewalk and climbed a couple of steps of the stoop in front of them. They were about a half block from his apartment and had a good view of the corner. He would see Arthur coming.

They settled with their hands still locked, and Gwaine stroked the inside of his palm with his little finger. Gwaine turned to look at him before he spoke, and leaned in, hesitating a few inches from his mouth. “Can I—?”

Merlin nodded, holding his breath, and Gwaine closed the distance, his lips finding Merlin’s, pressing in for a moment, moving slowly, letting Merlin adjust to the sensation until he was moving his own mouth, opening and breathing in Gwaine. His first true kiss. He was a little dizzy when Gwaine pulled back, and he looked up at Gwaine sheepishly, ashamed of his inexperience. 

“You’re beautiful,” Gwaine said, not a hint of mocking in his voice, despite the words that sounded like a joke to Merlin. Merlin wrinkled his nose and shook his head, flushed with discomfort. “Hey, stop.” Gwaine ran a finger along his cheek and stilled him with his palm at Merlin’s jaw. “I’m serious.”

Merlin looked down. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Merlin?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you look at me, please?” Merlin brought his eyes back to Gwaine’s and worked to hold his gaze. Gwaine’s eyes were a rich chocolate brown, too dark to make out in the low light of the street lamp, but warm enough to calm his nerves. “I really like you. You know that, right?”

Merlin shrugged his shoulders. “I wasn’t sure, but, I mean, I wondered.” 

“I didn’t know you were only sixteen.”

“Oh.” Merlin’s heart sank, and he felt a moment of irrational fury at Arthur for exposing him that way.

“It doesn’t bother me,” Gwaine said. “I just didn’t know. And I guess, I wasn’t thinking I was pushing you before, with all the flirting.”

“You weren’t.” Merlin forced himself to straighten up and look directly into Gwaine’s eyes. If he didn’t want to be treated like a child, he needed not to act like one. “You weren’t. I liked your flirting.”

Gwaine smiled, his eyes creased at the corners. “I hoped so, anyway.” 

“I like you.” 

Gwaine nodded and kissed him again, still clutching his hand, using his free hand to wrap around Merlin’s neck, his fingers digging into the hair at the nape. Merlin was scared enough by the newness of it not to lose himself, but he could feel the stirrings of arousal, the excited breath in him and the way his skin came alive under Gwaine’s touch. 

When Gwaine pulled back, he let his hand slide from Merlin’s neck down his chest, until he was trailing a single finger along his shirt, down across his abdomen. Gwaine pulled away just as Merlin’s stomach retracted from the touch, shaky and aroused. “Fuck, Merlin.” Gwaine’s eyes had changed, the amusement traded for something darker, and he leaned forward again, nipped at Merlin’s neck and laid his forehead on Merlin’s shoulder for a moment. 

Gwaine’s breathing was heavy, even more so than Merlin’s, and Merlin recognised the signs of arousal, saw how affected Gwaine was. He didn’t feel comfortable enough himself to follow Gwaine there, his mind racing through what he thought could happen and not sure what he wanted to happen, but he liked the way Gwaine’s body felt close to his, the weight of him and the smell and the tingle where Gwaine’s lips and teeth and tongue had touched him.

After a moment, Gwaine pulled back and lifted Merlin’s knuckles to his mouth, kissing him there. “I want too many things, Merlin. I wish I had more time.”

Merlin frowned. It was the Fourth of July. Gwaine would be leaving in a month. Merlin nodded and wasn’t sure what to say.

“I meant what I said. Your age isn’t a big deal to me. But I also don’t want to take advantage of you. So, it’s up to you what happens.” 

Merlin nodded again, wishing Gwaine would make the decision for him. “Okay,” he said, and leaned in for another short kiss. He wanted to deepen it but wasn’t brave enough yet.

Gwaine sighed heavily. “Lance is being cool, but I should probably head back so he’s not stuck outside my apartment.”

“Does he know…?”

“I think it’s safe to say he’s figured it out.”

Merlin thought about that. He thought about Arthur’s warning and wondered how he was going to keep this from Arthur. Maybe it was all more obvious than he knew.

“How did you know? I mean, did someone tell you I was gay?”

“I always suspected, but it was Will, actually. At Elena’s party that night. He said he thought you might like me.”

Merlin was speechless. It never occurred to him that Will could talk that openly about his being gay. 

“You should come out to him, you know.”

“He knows, I don’t need to—”

“But you should. Say the words. You haven’t, have you?” Merlin shook his head. “I think it would mean a lot to him if you’d trust him.”

“I do trust him, totally.”

“I know, but you should tell him.”

Merlin nodded and chewed at the inside of his cheek. He’d almost never considered telling Will. He was comfortably complacent with the way things were, and it hit him that he had been not half the friend to Will that Will had been to him.

“Yeah.”

“You should tell Arthur, too.”

“I can’t—”

“You underestimate him, Merlin. You need to give him a chance to be okay with it.”

“I can’t. You don’t understand…” He broke off, ashamed, as it occurred to him that Gwaine probably did understand. Gwaine gave him a moment to try to find his words anyway, and he couldn’t do more than shake his head in thought.

“Maybe not. I think I do, but maybe not. I get that it’s a risk, but it’s the right thing to do.”

He kissed Gwaine then, impulsively, and smiled into it, not wanting to think about anyone else for just one moment more. This time Gwaine slid a few inches closer, let go of his hand, and wrapped his arms around Merlin, pulling him in at the waist. Merlin turned his head and their mouths lined up, deeper, Gwaine’s tongue playing at the edge of his lip, sliding over the top lip, and the bottom, until he couldn’t stop himself from finding Gwaine’s tongue with his own. He relaxed into it and felt his own arousal stir, let his mind go and fell into the sensation of it, the urgency of Gwaine’s hands at his waist and the warm, soft mouth on his.

Gwaine reluctantly pulled away, groaning in protest as he did. “You’re going to kill me, I can already see that.”

Merlin smiled. He took Gwaine’s hand in both of his and ran his fingers over Gwaine’s knuckles. The thought of Arthur wasn’t held off long though. “Can you not tell him, for now?”

“Arthur?” Merlin nodded, sorry for what he was asking but needing to ask it anyway. “Sure. But he’s gonna find out. Even if it’s not about me.”

Merlin chewed his lip again. Gwen had said the same. He knew they were right. It wasn’t enough to give him the courage. “Yeah, not yet, okay?”

Gwaine gave him a peck on the cheek and tugged them both to their feet. “Can I call you though?” 

“Of course.” And then he realised he didn’t even have Gwaine’s number. “Do you have a mobile?”

Gwaine shook his head. “I guess everyone’s getting them, huh? I haven’t caved yet. So expensive.” 

He knew Gwaine’s parents had very little, even less than his own single mother. He was lucky his mother had decided he needed a mobile for safety. “No problem. Give me your number.” He dug his mobile out of his pocket and programmed Gwaine’s number in. “I’ll call you and leave my number on your voicemail if you’re not there.” 

Gwaine gave him a small wave before he headed up the block, and Merlin had a moment of panic that he might run into Arthur on the way back, but they hadn’t been sitting there that long. And there was nothing to be ashamed of.

~o~O~o~

Arthur was home ten minutes later, and Merlin barely had time to process what had just happened before Arthur was in his space again, a little sullen and subdued, but forcing him to talk away from his thoughts. For the first time since Arthur’s arrival, Merlin craved his own space, not just to get away from the way that Arthur’s body felt pressed against his, but because he wanted to be alone. He considered finding an excuse to sleep on the futon, but he couldn’t come up with anything that wouldn’t sound suspicious. So he climbed into bed next to Arthur, gave an exaggerated yawn, and willed Arthur to leave him alone with his thoughts.

Arthur was quiet but not asleep, still on his back next to him, and Merlin could see Arthur’s eyes open in the dim light from the street. “Long day,” Arthur said, after Merlin had begun to feel his own body’s exhaustion catching up with him. “Ellis Island was amazing, huh?”

Merlin nodded. That seemed like it had been another day. 

“Thanks for taking me.” 

“Sure,” said Merlin, his voice scratchy enough to remind him that it was after one in the morning.

“G’night,” Arthur said, and curled on his side towards Merlin, not yet grasping him but hinting at what would come shortly after he was asleep. 

“Night.” In a few words Arthur had managed to bring Merlin back into this room with him, away from his thoughts of Gwaine, and grow, almost like a shadow grows against the wall, bigger than all the people and all the real things Merlin could touch. Merlin let his eyes follow the contours of Arthur’s chest and shoulders above the sheet; he watched the rise and fall of Arthur’s lungs, and traced the lines of Arthur’s lips with his eyes, wondering how they would feel against his own.

Merlin hated himself for it. He wanted to have all these feelings about Gwaine. He liked Gwaine, a lot. He was definitely attracted to him. And anything he felt for Gwaine was easily eclipsed by what he felt for Arthur. His cousin. It must be about familiarity, he thought. It must be simply a matter of time.

~o~O~o~

The next morning, he called Will, determined to put at least one thing right. Both he and Will were in their last week of true vacation, so Will came over to his place for lunch and they ate on the floor in the living room over the coffee table, watching a replay of the men’s finals match from Wimbledon.

“I kissed Gwaine last night,” Merlin said, finding the courage after he’d eaten his way through a bag of crisps.

Will turned to him and smiled wickedly. “Finally!”

He scoffed. “What is that supposed to mean?” Merlin was relieved that Will wasn’t angry for jumping over the more important conversation, but this felt like an easier way to start.

“Just that you two have been mooning over each other all year.”

“Really? No,” Merlin said, trying to pinpoint when the thought had first occurred to him. Maybe it had, during the school year. “Well, he said you were the one who gave him a clue, so thanks.”

Will shrugged his shoulders but his grin gave him away. “Someone had to say something.”

Merlin nodded and pursed his lips, willing the words to come out. “Thanks.” Will looked back to the TV, letting Merlin find his brave place, finally. “I’m sorry I never, like, formally told you I was gay.” His mouth got thick around the last words. It was so much harder than it should be, he thought. Will already knows. “It’s hard. To say.” 

Will nodded and looked back at him then. “I know. I get it. It’s okay though. We’re cool.” 

Merlin was overcome with a sense of peace at Will’s reassurance. He rarely appreciated how much the secret weighed him down, but he felt light enough to float away at that moment. “Speaking of things we never talk about,” he said, realising he owed so much to Will, “what changed with Elena?”

“Nothing really. I always liked her. I think I was—I don’t know—nervous, before. About trying a real relationship.” Will looked away from him then. “Kind of worried how it would change things in our friendship. And other stuff.” Will picked at the seam of his shorts and shrugged. “Then I realised nothing would ever happen if I didn’t try. So I made a choice. You should, too. With Gwaine, I mean. If you want to.”

“I think I do.”

~o~O~o~

Merlin left a message for Gwaine with his number that afternoon. Gwaine was working at an auto repair shop in the weeks before boot camp, but they had footie practice in the evening, so he knew he could see Gwaine if he wanted, if he were willing to put up with Gwaine and Arthur in the same place. He decided he wasn’t, giving Arthur the same excuse he’d give Gwaine over the phone the next day: too much work to do before classes started next week. He felt like a coward, but the only chance he had of testing things with Gwaine was to do it away from his cousin.

The trouble was that apart from Gwen, Arthur was spending most of his free time with Gwaine. Merlin hated saying no to Gwaine and Arthur’s combined pleas for him to join them out on Friday night, but he resisted. He thought finally he’d have a chance to go out with Gwaine on Saturday, but an early morning call from Morgana put Arthur in a dismal mood, and by early afternoon he found himself promising to rent a movie and spend a quiet night in with his cousin and his mum. 

Merlin stammered an apology to Gwaine over the phone. A muddle of excuses about family time, and sorry I can’t just tell him, and I really wish I could come out, maybe tomorrow? Gwaine was easy and said to come out when he could.

That night his mum stretched out on the couch, and he and Arthur arranged themselves on pillows and blankets on the floor. The three of them watched _Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon_. Merlin had chosen it for Arthur, but they were all enchanted by the end. He loved the balletic movement, and the stunning scenery from a world away.

“That made me want to visit China,” Merlin said over his shoulder to his mum. He and Arthur were on their bellies, their heads propped on pillows and their chins in their hands. 

“Igraine always wanted to see China, when we were girls.”

“I didn’t know that.” Arthur had pressed himself against Merlin shortly after they settled on the blankets, and now he lay, unconsciously, with an ankle crossed over one of Merlin’s, entwining their legs at the ends. “Maybe we should all go.” Arthur pressed his cheek into his crossed hands and watched Merlin lazily. 

Arthur had said very little about the news from home, but Merlin gathered there was surgery on the horizon, and some effort to keep Arthur from learning more details than Uther thought necessary. Arthur had fussed and fumed his way through the day, but he looked peaceful now. Almost angelic with his blond head in reclined profile. _Family_. Merlin thought how different things would be if his aunt were still alive, wondered if he and Arthur would have drifted apart from the distance. He told himself he could be Arthur’s family in the way that Arthur needed now, that he was strong enough to do that.

~o~O~o~

On Monday, Merlin’s classes started. Between class hours, labs, and homework, his world telescoped to the equations in a book and the commute to and from school. His memory of the press of Gwaine’s hand against his palm, the first tempting slide of lips on his, took on a dreamlike quality, the kind one hovers over and that fades upon waking. No matter how resolved he’d been to test things with Gwaine, he couldn’t seem to touch the wavy dream of it or bring it into clearer focus. The week was nearly over before he saw Gwaine again.

The team had a Thursday evening match in Central Park against a team from a pick-up league in Manhattan. Lance had decided he needed to look harder for competition, since the short summer season was winding down and they’d not lost a match. 

Merlin hoofed it to the field alone and found himself the only spectator for their Brooklyn side. He wore a button-down flannel in his overly-air-conditioned classroom over his T-shirt, and he dropped it on the dry grass to sit. 

The team was occupied with warm-up drills, but it wasn’t long before a stray ball sent Lance in Merlin’s direction. The moment Lance called out to him, Gwaine and Arthur looked over. Merlin’s heart hammered in his throat. He’d tried not to think about it, but there was no avoiding the fact that he was nervous. Arthur trotted over and Merlin saw Gwaine hesitate from a distance, fiddling with the bandana on his head. He caught Merlin’s eye as Arthur approached, and smiled from behind Arthur in that way he had that made Merlin worry less. 

Arthur kicked at the heel of Merlin’s sandals. “Glad you made it.” Arthur was a wall of muscle and blond hair in front of him all of a sudden, his bright eyes sharply focused on Merlin. “How’s class?”

“Fine. Good.” Merlin pulled his knees up and clasped his arms around them. “Hard.” He imagined Arthur like a shield, blocking out all the temptation that stood behind him. It was effective. The sun had gotten low enough that he didn’t have to squint up at Arthur. It was warm and dry, his favourite kind of summer evening. “You gonna get beat finally?”

Arthur smirked. “Hardly. I hear they have a couple decent players, so maybe it’ll be a bit of fun.” Arthur stood still, staring at him, and Merlin fidgeted the way he hadn’t since Arthur had first arrived. There was an intensity to Arthur’s attention that wasn’t unusual, but Merlin was hyper-aware of it in that moment. He coughed self-consciously and shifted his gaze to the field. Gwaine had gone back to stretching with some of the other guys from the team. “You coming out with us after the game?” 

Merlin looked back to Arthur and couldn’t make out his expression. “Um, yeah, sure.” 

“Great.” Arthur was heading back to the field before Merlin could make sense of the awkward exchange. Gwaine nodded over at him again, and then the players were taking their positions and he cursed himself for the jumping nerves in his stomach. 

The match was exciting enough to keep his thoughts from spinning out into panic about how the evening would go when it was over. Elyan made several spectacular saves, but he still let two get past him. And the opposition had defence, too. They were tied at two all coming into the last few minutes of the match, when Lance managed a small chip pass to Gwaine in the corner, and Gwaine hooked it in. Arthur was on Gwaine’s back in a congratulatory tackle immediately, and Gwaine disappeared under a huddle of bodies.

Merlin got to his feet to cheer, and when Gwaine emerged from the circle of his teammates, Merlin met his eyes this time, smiled easily with him, and let go of some of the tension he’d been holding all week. He approached as the players gathered their bags and water bottles at the sidelines and succeeded in not over-thinking the next few hours. Gwaine made his way over to him while Arthur was caught in conversation, wiping his face with the T-shirt he’d removed and slipping the bandana off his overgrown hair. 

“Hey there, stranger.”

“Great shot,” Merlin grinned.

“Thanks.” Gwaine stopped in front of him, slightly closer than an arm’s breadth away. “So, you avoiding me?” Gwaine smiled. He didn’t sound angry, but it was a genuine question.

Merlin looked at his feet, embarrassed. He had no idea what he was doing, and had denial on his tongue, even though he wasn’t sure himself. He shrugged. “No, of course not.” 

“Merlin?” Merlin looked up and Gwaine had ducked down to catch his gaze. “It’s okay. I mean, I get it, I think.”

“Really? Because I don’t.” Merlin took a deep breath and exhaled. He wanted to be honest at least. “I’ve wanted to see you. I’m just…” He took another steadying breath and glanced over Gwaine’s shoulder to make sure Arthur was still occupied. Arthur slapped Lance on the back and the two of them laughed over something. Merlin relaxed slightly. “I’m nervous, I guess. And with Arthur—well, you know.”

Gwaine patted his shoulder and Merlin was grateful for the gesture, and for the fact that it betrayed nothing to onlookers. “I do get it, Merlin. And I know I’m leaving soon. I just hoped we’d have a little time, you know.”

Merlin nodded and swallowed. “Yeah, yeah. Me too.” His eyes flitted around, afraid to let this get heavy, not sure what else to say. “Maybe we could do something this weekend?” 

“Sure.” Gwaine looked back over his shoulder and waved to Lance and Arthur. “You coming out with us tonight?” Merlin nodded, his throat dry and the nerves threatening to force another excuse to dismiss himself. “It’ll be okay. I’m not gonna give you away.” Gwaine winked and Merlin nodded again.

Arthur charged over a moment later and threw his arms around Gwaine, knocking him slightly off balance, and mussed his loose hair. “This guy! He came through for us, eh Merlin?”

Merlin and Gwaine laughed, and Gwaine shoved Arthur off as he righted himself. The last time they’d all been together was on the Fourth of July, and Merlin remembered how surly Arthur had been. He seemed free of that now, and free of his earlier stiffness. Merlin’s mercurial cousin kept his good mood through the night, through pizza and beer in midtown and the lengthy wait on the platform for the train home. But he also never left Merlin’s side; he kept himself between Merlin and Gwaine when they ate, and on the sidewalk as they walked. Gwaine played it cool throughout, but caught Merlin’s eye a few times when Arthur wasn’t watching, and gave him the look of someone who felt chaperoned.

“Where’s Gwen?” Gwaine finally asked as they headed up DeKalb for the last stretch of their trip home. 

“Camp job. Keeps her late, and she said she was beat. I’ll see her Saturday,” Arthur said. 

Merlin made note of it and nodded at Gwaine, who said a quick goodbye to them on their corner. 

It wasn’t until he and Arthur had turned onto their street that Merlin fully relaxed. He’d weathered this. Not particularly gracefully, but Gwaine seemed willing to let him move at his own pace, and Arthur had betrayed none of the nastiness of a week earlier. If he hadn’t been so out of his depth, and ashamed of the way he feared confrontation with Arthur, he’d probably be sore at Arthur for hovering, but he couldn’t help but feel relieved that he’d gotten through the night without any damage.

~o~O~o~

On Saturday, Arthur had plans to leave late afternoon to spend the evening with Gwen. Merlin’s mum wasn’t due home until close to nine, so he called Gwaine in the morning, while Arthur was in the shower, and invited him over for an early evening of take-away at his place. He knew he was opening a door to something, possibly more than he was ready for, but he was frustrated by his own sluggish response to what Gwaine was offering him. He wanted to push himself.

Merlin had hours of homework to occupy his morning, but his nerves were more than even Bio-chem could stifle. He sat at the kitchen table with his earbuds in, and found his thoughts drifting back to the kiss on the stoop. He remembered the way his body had started to respond. His mind drifted, and before he could stop himself he was recalling the acute arousal he’d felt when Arthur’s hands roamed over his back and chest, the ghost of imagined touch across his arse. _Fuck_. 

Merlin startled when Arthur’s hand fell on his nape, the cool of Arthur’s palm chasing the memory he’d been trying to banish. “Shit, you scared me.” He pulled the earbuds out and stood to shake Arthur off. 

“Sorry, mate. What’s that?” Arthur leaned over the textbook while Merlin made his escape to the refrigerator, opened it and stared blindly at the contents. “Christ, I have no idea how you make sense of this stuff.”

Merlin wasn’t making much sense of anything at the moment. 

“I think I’m gonna go to the library.” Merlin’s voice was flat; he wasn’t willing to think through why he needed to get away, only that he did. 

Arthur’s mouth turned down into a stern pout. “It’s Saturday. Let’s do something.”

“You have plans.” A quick, unexpected panic hit him, propelled him to the table where he started shoving his books and papers into his backpack under Arthur’s unhappy gaze.

“Not ‘til later. What are you up to tonight?”

Merlin zipped up his bag and shrugged. Arthur rarely asked him about his plans on nights he was going out. Merlin started to move to toward the hall, hoping he could continue to shrug off Arthur’s attention.

“Come out with Gwen and me.” Arthur’s voice had that pleading edge again. 

Merlin reached the bolted door and glanced back at Arthur, who was following him down the hall. “I’ll probably do something with Will.” Merlin unlocked the heavy door and was out before Arthur could stop him. “Say hi to Gwen for me.”

A block away from home, Merlin felt queasy. Had he really just fled his own house? Run away from his cousin? He stopped at the corner of DeKalb and looked over his shoulder, half expecting to find Arthur there. The block was Saturday quiet. 

Nerves, it was just nerves about his first proper date.

~o~O~o~

Merlin cut it close that afternoon, getting home only a half hour before Gwaine was due. But he’d managed to miss Arthur, so he sped through a shower and threw the clothes strewn around his room into his wardrobe, grateful not to have time to think about the night ahead. Gwaine rang the bell just as Merlin was grimacing at the mop on top of his head. His hair had grown too long, fluffy waves no longer tamed even by gel. He buzzed Gwaine in and tugged at his plain black T-shirt, suddenly wondering if he was underdressed.

When he opened the apartment door, Gwaine was toeing off his flip-flops. Merlin was relieved to find him in shorts and a T-shirt. “Come in.” 

Five minutes later, Merlin was second-guessing the decision to invite Gwaine to his apartment. Merlin stood stiffly in his living room, and before he could stop himself he was repeating an inane list of trivia he’d heard from his mother about the history of the building. “Apparently the skirtings are unusual—” 

Gwaine stepped into his personal space and interrupted him with a kiss, a quick peck on the lips that Merlin chased into something lingering. A jittery relief crawled through his limbs as he was saved from pretending to know anything about playing host. The kisses led nowhere, but they carved a space for Gwaine in his home. 

They found their way to the kitchen and the take-away menu Merlin had dug out from a cluttered drawer under the phone. A half hour later they were on the floor, eating moo shu vegetable and kung pao shrimp off the coffee table in the living room and talking about family. 

“How old were you when your dad died?”

“Three. I was three.” 

Gwaine nodded. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“I guess you don’t remember him much.”

“Nah. A little, I think. But the hardest part is just how sad my mum was.”

Gwaine stabbed a piece of shrimp and watched Merlin as he poked it into his mouth. “Mmhm,” he said, around the food. “My mom’s been sad too. Not the same. Divorce. I bet your dad was a good guy. Mine’s a prick.”

Merlin stretched his legs and looked away then, casting for somewhere else to put his eyes. He knew almost nothing about Gwaine’s family life. He had thought Gwaine’s parents were together. “I didn’t know.”

“I never talk about him. He lives uptown. Penthouse on Central Park West.” 

Merlin gaped. “Wow.”

“Yeah. My dad and Arthur’s probably have a lot in common. I figured your cousin was a prick, too, when I met him.”

Merlin told himself he didn’t want to talk about Arthur. At least not with Gwaine. But he did, too. He always did. “Makes sense.”

“He’s not though. A prick,” Gwaine clarified.

Merlin bobbed his head and wasn’t sure what to say to that. 

“You guys have a really special bond, huh?”

Merlin felt his throat go dry, and he had to swallow to find his voice. “Yeah. Since we were young, I guess. We were like brothers growing up.” Merlin searched for a topic that would steer the conversation away from his cousin. “Are you an only child, too?”

They talked for over an hour on the floor in the living room, until Merlin noticed the light changing. “My mom’ll be home in an hour or so,” he said. _Too obvious?_

Gwaine understood. He stood and tugged Merlin off the floor, letting himself be led by the hand into Merlin’s bedroom. 

Merlin was sure he wanted to do this, he just wasn’t sure what _this_ was. He watched Gwaine pull off his T-shirt and pulled off his own. They stood toe-to-toe, getting the edges of breeze from the fan whirring on Merlin’s desk.

Gwaine kissed Merlin, slowly. Held his hand lightly and didn’t touch him otherwise for a long time. Mouths only, they met, lips moving and learning. 

Merlin tried to turn down the volume of his thoughts, to get lost in the sensation. He remembered how he’d gotten swept up when he sat on the steps with Gwaine, for a moment. Or he’d started to. This time he couldn’t. His room, the presence of so many parts of his life, of Arthur. He enjoyed the soft push of Gwaine’s lips, the warmth of his breath and the wet of his tongue, but his mind wouldn’t let go. 

Gwaine didn’t seem to notice. He was gentle and undemanding, and seemed content to move at Merlin’s pace, to savour whatever this was for as little as it was.

Merlin stepped into Gwaine, clasped his hands behind Gwaine’s neck and let his fingers dig into the long hair there. He wasn’t going to let his turbulent thoughts derail this. Their heads turned, the kisses deepened. Merlin could feel Gwaine getting hard against the top of his thigh. He had more than an inch on Gwaine, and Gwaine was lifting himself up into Merlin’s mouth, manoeuvring him to the bed. Merlin landed with a thump on his back and scooted up to the top of the bed while Gwaine came after him on his knees. “We don’t have to—”

“Whatever,” Merlin answered into Gwaine’s mouth. They kissed and wriggled out of their shorts. Merlin still wasn’t hard, but he thought if he could get some friction it wouldn’t take long. They were clumsy, and Merlin was starting to enjoy it, starting to enjoy the feeling of skin under his fingers, the feeling of hands on his own skin, even as his mind wasn’t at all where it should have been.

Merlin’s thoughts were so filled with worry, with the persistent presence of someone else, that when the worry came through the front door and the presence was in the room, he didn’t hear it. Not until Arthur was making a choking sound in the doorway, and even then not really until Arthur had pulled Gwaine’s body off of his and shoved him, slammed his back up against the chest of drawers beside the bed. 

“What the fuck!” Arthur was red, shaking in anger, and Gwaine put his hands up in surrender, not scared, but placating. Understanding, maybe. Merlin could barely see through his own surprise, but he thought Gwaine looked like he understood what was happening. 

“Arthur, stop!” Merlin found his voice. He jumped out of bed and tugged at Arthur’s shoulders to get him off Gwaine, but Arthur shrugged him off easily, not willing to let go of Gwaine. 

“Get the fuck out of here, Gwaine.” Arthur’s volume had dropped, but his voice was cold. It made Merlin scared for the first time since he realised that Arthur was in the room.

Gwaine didn’t fight. He just pushed steadily back against Arthur. “I’m going.” 

Arthur stepped back and watched as Gwaine picked his clothes up from the floor and got into them quickly. 

Merlin started shaking. “Gwaine—” he tried.

Gwaine stepped around Arthur and put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, Merlin. You two need to talk. We’ll catch up tomorrow. Okay?”

Merlin nodded, but he was still shaking and wanted to hold on tighter to Gwaine in that moment. He leaned toward Gwaine, but Arthur seethed, and Merlin wondered that he’d let Gwaine touch him at all. He felt his heart speeding as his fear turn to anger. 

“You okay, Merlin?” Gwaine asked.

“I’m okay. I’m sorry.” Gwaine nodded and kissed Merlin on the forehead. He turned to Arthur. “Don’t be a prick, Arthur. I told Merlin you’re not a prick. Don’t make me a liar.”

Arthur’s eyes were wild with something Merlin couldn’t grasp. “Fuck you!” he shouted, and held his shaking arm out toward the door, pointing Gwaine’s way. Gwaine simply nodded and let himself out.

Merlin found himself pacing to his desk, wanting to get his clothes on but also wanting to be away from the bed. He expected Arthur to lay into him, but it didn’t happen. Not right away. Arthur stood in the middle of the room with his head in his hands and turned in small semi-circles, like he was trying to find his way out of something. 

Merlin had words in his throat when Arthur turned on him, face red again and arms in the air. “What the fuck has been going on here, Merlin?”

“What does it look like?”

“I’m not talking about Gwaine, I’m talking about _this_ ,” Arthur said, gesturing between the two of them. Merlin’s fury twisted in his stomach and he shrank from the belligerent words on his tongue.

“What do you mean? You’re my cousin.” The lie was on its way out before he could consciously think it. “This has nothing to do with you.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Merlin. This has everything to do with me.” Arthur’s anger filled the space between them and snatched the breath from Merlin’s chest.

Merlin knew it, and he was sick with it. He desperately wanted Arthur to look away from it. No one loved him the way Arthur did. He had his mother, and Morgana, even Gwen and Will, but Arthur’s love was open and needy and everything to him. That he’d soiled that made him feel like a criminal. Like the ugliness in him had killed something precious.

Merlin struggled to find the words to deny Arthur’s accusation. He had to, he knew he did. But they didn’t come easily. Lying never came easily. So he shook in front of Arthur, turned from him toward the window and mumbled, “No, no, no…no.”

He could hear Arthur’s breathing, heavy still, but coming under control by Arthur’s will. Arthur was trying to quell his anger to talk, and Merlin could hear the struggle, knew that Arthur was seething. “I just don’t understand, Merlin. I’m so…fucking. I don’t understand. This isn’t who you are. I just don’t believe—”

Merlin whirled around and cut Arthur off, because that was the one direction this conversation would not go. “Believe it, Arthur.” His voice choked on Arthur’s name. “Believe it. You can hate me, disown me…think the worst of me. Whatever. But…I’m gay. Have always been. I didn’t—I didn’t tell you because I didn’t—fuck. I didn’t know how to deal with any of it. I’m still—I’m scared as shit about it. There’s a hell of a lot I just… don’t fucking know. But I know this. And I knew—I knew you’d act this way. But you can’t wish this away.” 

Merlin was trembling with the effort it took to get the words out. Words that he’d known would be said one day, one way or another, to Arthur. He never expected to have to say them so soon, but he realised, as he stood shivering in front of his cousin, in the shadow of his rage, that this was the reason he’d been terrified about Arthur’s visit. He’d known. Having Arthur in his home, around his friends, intruding on his life, it was inevitable, wasn’t it? This scene. 

Merlin’s face screwed up in regret at the thought of how he’d behaved. How he’d allowed himself to share his bed with Arthur. How he’d coloured Arthur’s attentions and familial love with something else. Merlin was certain that if Arthur had known, he’d never have treated him the way he did, touched Merlin the way he did. He deserved Arthur’s fury. He deserved his hate, if that was all that Arthur had left now. But he had to try to give Arthur a way to come to peace with his own behaviour, even if he could never come to peace with Merlin’s.

Merlin wiped his cheek, shamefully wet, and forced himself to look at his cousin. “Arthur, I’m sorry. You can think whatever you want. I can’t change this. But you have to believe me, you’re my cousin. I think of you as a brother. I would never—it’s not like that…with you.”

Arthur was shaking his head before Merlin had all the words out, “Bullshit, Merlin. That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“What do you want me to say, Arthur?”

“I want you to tell me the truth.” 

“Really? Because it doesn’t seem like—”

“No, I do. I do. I’m sorry—I’m sorry I blew up at you.” Arthur deflated, his shoulders slumping, and he stalked over to the bed with his hands in his hair. He sat and scrubbed at his scalp with his head bent and his elbows dug into his hips. “Fuck, Merlin.”

Merlin wiped his eyes and leaned up against his desk, waiting for Arthur to look at him. “I’m confused,” Arthur rasped into his hands.

“Welcome to the club.” 

Arthur peered at him through the cracks in his fingers. “Did he take advantage of you?”

“No! Gwaine? No. He would never.”

Arthur sat up straighter and finally looked at him squarely. “I didn’t think he would.”

“Then why’d you warn me to stay away from him?”

Arthur bit his bottom lip and shook his head. “I don’t—that day he told me—he said you were hot… I just…”

“Tell me.”

“I think I was a little jealous.” Arthur pulled his shoulders back as he said it, owned the words, but Merlin’s head swam around them, not able to make sense of them.

“Jealous that Gwaine thought I was hot instead of you?”

“No! Christ, no. I’m not—I don’t—” 

“I don’t get it.” Merlin didn’t, not in the slightest.

“I was jealous at the thought of you and him, the thought of you…with him.”

Merlin’s pulse picked up and his breath quickened. He didn’t believe the words, but they still sent his body into high alert. “I don’t—”

“Don’t pretend like it hasn’t crossed your mind, Merlin. Please.” Arthur stood, but balked at taking a step. He looked about to reach out to Merlin, and also paralysed.

“I’m not sure I—”

“Yes you are, Merlin,” Arthur said, his voice nearly a whisper.

Merlin’s hands were shaking, and he pressed his palms against the desk to stop the tremble, but it moved up his arm instead until a slight tremor passed through his entire body. His skin felt prickly hot and he wanted to turn away, but Arthur had pinned him with that piercing stare. “I… I know… But, we can’t—”

Arthur took a step, and another, and then he was standing less than an arm’s length away. “Why not? I mean, I know. Yes. But is it so bad?”

“You’re not even gay.” Merlin’s chest was rising heavily and he had to work to stay steady.

Arthur’s hand came up to his own face, his fingers circling over closed lids. “No, but I’ve always—” He dropped his hand and took a deep breath, opening his eyes to Merlin. “I’ve wondered for a long time. I’m not sure I’m totally straight, either.”

“What does that mean?” Merlin’s defences went up, his body clamping down under Arthur’s gaze. 

Arthur took a half step closer and put one hand over Merlin’s on the desk, rubbing the outside of Merlin’s pinkie with his own. A warm shock of pleasure threaded itself from the thin skin of Merlin’s finger, up his arm and into his chest. “God, Merlin, I can’t stop thinking about this.”

Merlin tried to push past the moment, to find a path into the future that could make sense of this, that would point out the folly in letting his body sink into Arthur’s embrace, but Arthur always shrunk everything down to a fine point, to the now, and Merlin did sink, instinctively, as Arthur’s arms came around his bare skin and slid down his back to rest on his arse. 

“Merlin,” Arthur whispered in his ear, and then his lips were on the shell of it and Merlin shook, the breathy heat and soft flesh against his sensitive lobe, nipping then, sending the most erotic and perfect sensation he’d ever felt spiralling through his veins, heating his lungs, warming his gut and lower. 

Merlin hardened and pressed into the thigh Arthur had slid between his legs. A high whine escaped his throat and he buried his face in Arthur’s neck, drowned there while Arthur ran his hands over the skin of Merlin’s back and used his tongue to curl into Merlin’s ear, and then along the line of his jaw. “Tell me it’s okay, Merlin,” Arthur said into the corner of Merlin’s mouth, his voice low.

Merlin nodded and forced the word out— _yes_ —just as Arthur’s mouth covered his, took his breath with greedy lips and a kiss that tipped him into free fall. Arthur’s hands were rough on Merlin’s skin, and his own gripped at Arthur’s shirt, clung to him, all of a sudden feeling his whole life in this connection, in the heat of his cock and the weight in his chest as Arthur pressed into him with lips and tongue and strong, demanding fingers. Arthur groaned into Merlin’s mouth and nipped at his bottom lip, ran his tongue over it then into Merlin’s mouth, over his tongue, deepened the kiss until Merlin’s insides melted and the world burned behind his eyes. 

Arthur’s hands were everywhere then as he kissed over Merlin’s cheek, his eyes, nipped at his jaw, and Merlin’s need was urgent. Underneath the pleasure was something dark pulling at him, but he couldn’t think beyond Arthur and how his own body moved in response, seeking friction and release. 

Arthur shuffled Merlin over to the bed, nearly lifted him onto it, pressed him into the mattress and stopped only for a moment to look at Merlin, first down at the erection that tented his boxers and stained them wet, and then up until he met Merlin’s eyes. “Fuck, Merlin.” Arthur bent down for a kiss, turned his head to press into it, then let his weight down so that he was sprawled half on top of Merlin, half curled around his side. The fingers of one hand tickled through Merlin’s hair while the other began to play at Merlin’s nipple, circling it, hardening it. 

Arthur looked as lost as Merlin felt, but Merlin’s body was way past caring about anything other than this, so when Arthur grabbed him close for a kiss he fell into it greedily. Arthur pressed his erection up against Merlin’s thigh as their lips moved, moaning at the friction. Merlin reached over to fumble at the clasp on Arthur’s shorts, then Arthur got it open himself and pulled Merlin’s wrist until his hand was down Arthur’s pants and he had the hot length under his fingers. Arthur’s hand reached for him, and the relief of pressure and friction as Arthur stroked him, finally, made Merlin’s tongue roll in his mouth and his eyes roll back in his head. “Fuck.” 

“Yes,” Arthur urged, “like that,” as Merlin stroked him and found a rhythm to match the tight strokes of Arthur’s fist around his own cock. He choked out his pleasure and tried not to fuck into Arthur’s hand, but Arthur pushed him, “do it, Merlin, do it. Fuck, you look so hot.” Merlin’s eyes were screwed shut. He could only feel Arthur at his side stroking him and the hot, engorged cock in his hand. And then Arthur started thrusting into his hand, both of them beginning to lose rhythm as they jerked each other, _fuckfuckfuck_ Arthur breathed into his neck, grunting with pleasure, and then Arthur was spilling into his hand, against his thigh, just as his own pleasure caught and exploded, his balls pulling up as he came all over his stomach and chest. 

Merlin was catching his breath when he heard the turn of keys in the door. “Mum.” The word was almost silent, the horror of what he’d just done crashing down on him. 

“Merlin,” Arthur whispered into his neck, a slight edge of panic in his voice. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he said, chanted, with no real conviction. 

Merlin shook his head. He was wet and sticky with come, and his mind had started racing. He wasn’t okay. What they’d done… He had to get to the bathroom without his mum seeing… _smelling_ …and sheets, he had to wash the sheets. And she’d be wondering where they were. It was only nine o’clock. She’d check on them if they hid in here too long. But how could they explain emerging from bed at nine on a Saturday night. He felt sick all of a sudden. Sick. That was it. He had to pretend he was sick. 

“Oh God, Merlin, don’t cry, okay,” Arthur spoke rapidly, beyond panic now. “I’m so sorry, so, so sorry. Please, it’ll be okay.” Merlin felt the tears then, running down into his temples without his permission. 

“We shouldn’t have—” 

“It’s okay.”

“No.” Merlin sat up, pulling the side of his thumb down his face to dry it. He carefully lifted the waistband of his boxers back over his cock and grabbed a towel from the hook off the back of the door, wrapping it around his waist. “I’m taking a shower.”

“Merlin—”

In the dark of the hall, Merlin’s legs felt weak under him. He’d never come from anything but his own hand, and even through the shame and the panic, a part of his body was quiet and sated in an unfamiliar way. _His first time_. He wished it was something he could relish, could feel right about. 

He paused in the doorway to his mum’s bedroom, the door half open. “Hi, Mum. Gonna take a shower.”

“You okay?” Hunith called after him.

“Uh-huh.”

Merlin let the water cleanse him and worked the soap vigorously over his skin, trying not to think beyond the beat of the shower against his back and the need to get through the next hours without any more damage to the people who mattered most to him. He thought about Gwen as he was towelling off. In ten minutes he’d managed to betray his best friend, his mother, Morgana. Gwaine.

When he got out of the shower he found Arthur in the living room with Hunith, fully dressed. There was nothing to give Arthur away physically. His mum was reading the paper and Arthur had flicked on a rerun of Law and Order. “Think I’m gonna crash early. I’m not feeling great.”

“What’s the matter, sweetie?” Hunith looked concerned, and Merlin sensed her shifting into nurse mode. 

“Nothing, just tired.” That was close enough to the truth. He was shattered.

Merlin shut the door on the living room and hoped his mum couldn’t hear him stripping the bed. He had a spare set of sheets in his bottom drawer for wanking accidents, and he pulled the fitted one on quickly, trying not to scrape the bed over the floor when he pulled it out a smidge to get the sheet tucked in against the wall. He balled the dirty sheets and his boxers up and shoved them into his wardrobe. Arthur’s stained briefs were on the floor, and he aggressively kicked those into the wardrobe as well. In a clean pair of boxers, he climbed into the bed and lay there, not at all tired enough to sleep, but ashamed enough to keep his mind blank.

~o~O~o~

By some miracle of self-preservation, he wasn’t conscious again until morning, and the bed beside him was empty. For a second he thought Arthur must’ve slept on the futon, but Arthur’s pillow had the press of his head in it and the sheets were still warm. Merlin was going to have to move back to the futon himself, but he needed to find an explanation that would work for his mum.

Merlin dressed quickly, running his fingers through his hair and picking the sleep gunk out of the corners of his eyes in the mirror. He scrubbed his palm over his face to wake himself more fully, then gathered his books and went straight for the front door, calling down the hall as he stepped out. “Going to the library! See you later!”

He was on the street before he had time to realise he had to pee. He felt like a fugitive, but he stopped at Fort Greene Park on the way to the subway and used a tree before he made his way down DeKalb and found himself mindlessly boarding the train to the city. He’d go to Hunter, get himself a cubicle in the library, maybe even run into Professor Gauis. Except it was Sunday, so maybe not. He’d bury himself in his books. He needed the study time anyway.

At noon he stepped out of the library to find a bite to eat. He’d turned the ringer off on his phone, and he opened it now to see he had a voicemail from Will and a missed call from Gwaine. Nothing from Arthur.

He ran his fingers nervously over his mobile as he contemplated calling Gwaine. He chewed at his thumb and squinted into the midday light, the block quiet and lightly green with young trees, like someone had decided the city had gone too far and needed softening one hundred years after the forest that once stood there had been paved over. 

He found Gwaine in his contacts and pressed send before he could think about it further.

“Hey.” Gwaine picked up on the second ring. 

“Hey.”

“You okay—”

“I’m sorry—” 

They spoke over each other and then were silent. “Me first,” said Gwaine. Merlin nodded to himself on the empty sidewalk. “Don’t apologise, okay, Merlin?”

“But—”

“No, whatever you think is your fault, it isn’t. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“It isn’t that,” Merlin said. He felt a scratch at the back of his throat, a need to confess something, even if he couldn’t tell the truth. “I don’t think we did anything wrong. I just think… Arthur wouldn’t have been such an arsehole if things weren’t…”

Gwaine gave him some time to finish his thought. “He’s protective of you.”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s more than that. But that’s part of it.”

“Did he calm down?”

Merlin’s shame flared and he shook his head, unable to find the words. “Mmm. Gwaine, I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Do you want me to talk to him?”

“No! No.” He was such an arse. Now he’d fucked up Arthur’s friendship with Gwaine, too.

“Are you okay, Merlin?”

Merlin’s eyes burned, the self-pity that question triggered immediately at the surface. He wasn’t okay. He cleared his throat and fought to keep his voice steady. “Mmhm,” was all he could manage. 

“You don’t sound okay.”

Merlin pulled his lips into his teeth and closed his eyes against the threatening tears. 

“Merlin?”

He took a few deep breaths, his emotions threatening to swamp him. “Yeah,” he whispered. 

“God, I’m sorry. Fuck, Merlin.”

Merlin sniffed. “It’s okay.” He didn’t sound convincing. “Really. I’ll be okay.”

“What can I do?”

Merlin let the silence hang again. He wanted to see Gwaine, but he couldn’t handle this right now. Gwaine would be gone in a couple of weeks, and Merlin felt like he needed to crawl into a hole and hide from everyone. “I’m sorry, Gwaine.”

Gwaine was silent. Merlin wasn’t sure, but he thought Gwaine probably understood. He heard a siren pass on Gwaine’s end of the line. “Don’t be. Okay, Merlin? You have enough to deal with. Don’t worry about me.”

“But I want—I wanted—”

“I know. Me too. But it’s a lot of pressure, my leaving. I’ll be back.”

Merlin felt tears rise again, and this time they were for Gwaine. He felt like he was saying goodbye, and that wasn’t what he’d had in mind at all. “Can I see you? Before you go?”

“Of course. Whatever you want.”

“I won’t be at your match this week. You understand.”

“What should I say to Arthur?”

Merlin rubbed his eye hard with the palm of his hand. “Nothing? Just let him decide what he wants to say.” Merlin knew Arthur wouldn’t tell Gwaine anything about what’d happened. “It’d be better if you didn’t say anything. It’s really between him and me.”

“Okay.”

“Maybe we could get together next weekend? Just to say goodbye?”

“Sure, Merlin.”

~o~O~o~

Merlin stayed away as long as he could. He called his mum and said he was going out with Will. He called Will and told him he’d had a rough day, and asked Will to cover for him if anyone asked where he was. Will was just back from visiting Elena for the weekend. For once he was grateful that Will and Arthur hadn’t really hit it off. He thought about calling Gwen, mostly to assuage some guilt. But there was nothing he could say to her, so he left it.

His mum’s light was out by the time he got home. Merlin stole himself to confront Arthur in his bedroom, but Arthur wasn’t there. He checked the digital clock by his bed and the numbers glowed red, telling him it was almost midnight. Arthur had to work the next day, and Merlin couldn’t imagine he’d be out with Gwen. Or maybe that’s just where he’d be. He didn’t let himself stand there long. He grabbed some T-shirts, a clean pair of boxers, his bookbag, and shuffled down the hall to the futon, where there was still a sheet and a light blanket. 

Merlin hadn’t showered and felt grimy from a day in the city, but he didn’t want to get caught up when Arthur got home. So he poured himself into bed after a quick brush of his teeth and found himself surprisingly exhausted, despite spending most of the day folded into a library chair, and then later a dark theatre where he’d blindly sat through a movie to kill time. He hadn’t allowed himself a moment to think, apart from his phone call with Gwaine. Merlin knew this about himself now, something he’d only recently noticed: he was usually a worrier, prone to overthinking everything, but there were times, like this, when he could shut it down. 

He forced himself to think. He remembered what Will had said not much more than a week ago, about making choices. He thought about the choices he’d made. Virtually none. Arthur wasn’t a choice. He was his cousin. There was nothing there but the unshakable bond of family, and whatever else had seeped into their relationship was not the thing you choose. Gwaine was leaving, and probably not ever going to be anything serious. Merlin was too young to think about being serious anyway, but he knew he had to think about realistic choices, and whether that meant carrying a small torch for Gwaine in his absence or meeting other guys, maybe in college in a year, he knew the one thing it didn’t mean was letting things get out of hand with Arthur. Maybe Arthur was doing nothing more than grabbing at the thing closest to him, but this wasn’t about Arthur’s choices. Merlin could make a choice of his own.

Merlin half expected Arthur to wake him in the middle of the night. How often had Arthur let him get away with hiding? He remembered the night he’d tried to sleep in the guest room at his uncle’s house a couple of years ago, and Arthur had come to find him. But the next time he was conscious it was light out, and someone was already in the bathroom, had somehow tiptoed past him without waking him. 

Merlin pulled his mobile off the floor and checked the time. Seven thirty. Arthur usually left by seven forty-five. Merlin didn’t have to be in the city for a couple of hours. He closed his eyes again and feigned sleep when Arthur walked past him from the bathroom. Arthur’s steps didn’t hesitate. He wasn’t checking to see if Merlin was awake, just making his way out of the apartment as fast as he could.

~o~O~o~

“You and Arthur get in a fight?” His mum was still in her dressing gown, drinking her morning tea when he hobbled into the kitchen.

“Nah. I just don’t sleep well with him.” Merlin had practiced the lie. “He’s a bed hog.” That much was true. It didn’t explain why he’d waited a month to escape to the futon, but Hunith left it.

~o~O~o~

Merlin buried himself that week, and Arthur made no overtures. It was as if a wall had gone up, the first layer of bricks at least, the moment he left Arthur in his bed that night, and every day the bricks went higher. Merlin felt himself quickly losing the ability to see Arthur over it, as though he were disappearing brick by brick. He found himself spending longer in the bathroom than he needed to when Arthur was still up, and keeping his eyes closed in the morning until Arthur had left. When he was alone, late after Arthur had gone to bed and he wrestled with the small space under him, he cried.

Merlin went out with Will, told him half the story, giving Will the vague version he’d given Gwaine about _after_. Will got the picture that things were tense at home, and gratefully left it at that. He avoided Gwen. After that initial impulse to call her, he found himself terrified of facing the conversation. It was hard enough not telling Will everything. Not telling Gwen felt impossible, and yet she was the last person he could confide in. Gwen didn’t call him either, and Merlin knew without question that Arthur wouldn’t say a word to anyone. Their shared secret—silence—was the only communication left between them. 

Lance’s team had only a handful of remaining matches, one of them that week. Merlin didn’t go and no one invited him. He thought Gwaine might call. Eventually he worked out that if he wanted to see Gwaine again he was going to have to make the choice. He called Gwaine the Saturday after Arthur had expelled him from Merlin’s bed, and asked if he’d meet him in Prospect Park. Merlin figured it would be safer to leave the neighbourhood. 

It was late afternoon when they met on the patch of lawn Merlin had described. He’d thrown a beach towel in his backpack, a bottle of water, and some apples. Gwaine laughed at his sad little picnic as he kicked off his sneakers and joined Merlin on the towel. 

They didn’t talk about the kisses they’d shared, or the way they’d begun to touch each other before Arthur interrupted them. They talked about the Marines, and Gwaine admitted he was scared.

“I really don’t want to fight.”

“Hopefully you won’t have to.”

“Yeah, hopefully. Not much going on right now.”

“Right.”

“Hasn’t been, for a long time. Besides some small engagements, the Gulf War in ’91.”

“Sure.” Merlin didn’t think much about war. He wasn’t a big fan of the President, but it took more than one man to start a war, and he didn’t see anything like that on their horizon.

“Still.”

“What would you do?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, if you had to fight.”

“I would, I guess. I just hope I don’t have to.”

They ate their apples, and Merlin asked if Gwaine had a going-away party planned. 

“Next weekend I’ll do something. Elyan and Lance have something planned next Saturday up in Harlem. Maybe I’ll do something in Brooklyn, too.”

Merlin crunched into his apple. 

“Arthur said he’d come.”

He tried to hide his surprise, but felt the blood flooding his face. Arthur was talking to Gwaine. 

“That’s good,” he mumbled around his apple.

“You haven’t talked to him, have you?”

Merlin shook his head. He didn’t want to get into this with Gwaine. Gwaine didn’t understand, couldn’t know.

“He loves you, Merlin.”

“I know.”

“No, I don’t think you do.”

“He’s family. I get it.”

“It’s more than that.” 

Merlin shrugged. The words could mean so many things. Merlin knew what it felt like when Arthur touched him. For a second, for the first time since it’d happened, he let his mind open to the memory of Arthur’s hand on him, Arthur’s lips, the pull of Arthur that was unlike anything he’d ever felt. Like that? No, Arthur couldn’t love him like that. 

“I hope you guys work it out soon. He’s been kind of weird with me, but he said he was sorry. Said he overreacted.”

“He hasn’t said a word to me since.” Of course that was only half true. They’d done more than say a few words after Gwaine left that night. Lying was eating at Merlin almost as much as the shame. 

Gwaine frowned and reached his hand out to cover Merlin’s on the terrycloth under them. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Merlin whispered.

They packed up and went to dinner. The proper date they’d never had. They didn’t touch. They didn’t kiss. Merlin couldn’t. Not now. And Gwaine seemed to understand without truly knowing why.

It was relatively early when Merlin got in, and he expected Arthur would still be out. For the first time all week he didn’t tiptoe into the apartment but went straight to his room to get some clothes. The light was on but the room was empty. 

He got his things and carried them down the hall to his futon. His mum must’ve been in bed. Arthur was in the kitchen just beyond, and Merlin ignored him, turning out the light by his futon as he climbed in, hoping he could get to the bathroom soon. Hoping Arthur would go to bed.

There wasn’t ten feet between where he was lying and where Arthur sat, but Merlin felt safe in the dark, willing to keep up his end of the silence as long as necessary. Merlin closed his eyes, finally getting accustomed to the small, hard futon he planned to sleep on for the next two months. He twisted onto his stomach and curled his arms around the pillow and found that for the first time all week, he was angry. Not only sad and not only ashamed, but angry at Arthur. It wasn’t Arthur’s fault. Merlin had wanted it. In fact, he’d thought he was the only one who wanted it. That was the thing. He’d wanted it but he’d never have let it happen. If Arthur had left it to him, it never would’ve happened. It hadn’t occurred to him to be angry until that moment, but now that he was, he wondered if Arthur guessed at it. Maybe Arthur assumed that Merlin blamed him. Maybe Arthur blamed himself.

Arthur was quiet in the kitchen. Merlin thought, if only he could genuinely be asleep when Arthur walked through. Arthur went into the bathroom and Merlin heard him brushing his teeth. And then Arthur was standing over him in the dark, the only light the slight city glow that made it through the window. 

“Merlin?”

He lay still.

“Merlin? I know you’re awake.” Arthur spoke quietly. Not a whisper, but low enough that he wouldn’t disturb Hunith. He sounded tired.

Merlin flipped over onto his back and draped his arm over his forehead. The sight of Arthur standing over him erased everything but the sadness for a moment. For a brief moment, everything that Arthur meant to him was there in Arthur’s darkened silhouette, and Merlin felt the sorrow rising in his throat again.

“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry.”

Merlin nodded in the dark. He didn’t trust himself to speak.

“I’ll sleep out here starting tomorrow, okay? I don’t want to kick you out of your bed. I meant that.”

“No,” was all he could get out. His voice was high and he thought _fuck, don’t cry_. Merlin cleared his throat. “I’m fine.” 

They were silent for a moment. Arthur shifted on his feet and Merlin saw him run his fingers through his hair. Arthur wasn’t looking at him, his eyes directed somewhere down the dark hallway. They both sighed into the space between them, and then Merlin held his breath because he didn’t feel big enough to tackle this.

“Maybe we can talk? Tomorrow or something.” Arthur sounded more resigned than enthusiastic.

“Yeah, maybe. I’ve gotta study tomorrow.” His mum would be home all day. The thought of scheduling a talk with Arthur returned a bit of his anger. Arthur sighed again, this time sounding exasperated, and Merlin felt himself getting defensive in the face of the silent accusation. “You don’t really want to talk, Arthur. There’s nothing to say.”

“Don’t tell me what I want,” Arthur said, his voice carrying it’s own edge of anger. “Good night, Merlin.”

Arthur moved softly down the hall, not betraying in his step any of the anger Merlin had heard in Arthur’s voice, and Merlin hauled himself up to the bathroom in a huff, almost relieved to feel like they’d fought, though he had no idea what the fight was about.

~o~O~o~

The next morning, Hunith cornered Merlin after Arthur made an early escape to his match.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on between you two?”

“It’s nothing—”

“You haven’t said a word to each other all week. I’m not blind.”

“It’s complicated.”

Hunith motioned for him to sit next to her at the kitchen table and he flopped into the high-backed chair. He searched for a truth he could tell her. “He got mad at me last week. He doesn’t approve of one of my friends.”

“Who?”

“It doesn’t matter who, Mum. You don’t know him.”

“Okay.”

“We got in a fight. We’ll get over it.” Merlin wasn’t sure they would get over it. 

“I’m not going to meddle, but you need to work it out. I promise you, you’ll never look back and wish you’d spent more time angry at the people you love.”

Merlin shrugged. It was hollow wisdom at the moment. He was angry with Arthur, a bit. But that was the smallest of his problems.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Do you want me to talk to him?”

“Please don’t, Mum. You’ll just make it worse.”

~o~O~o~

A couple of days later, Merlin’s phone rang from an unknown number. He was getting off the subway with an hour before his first class. He hitched his backpack up over one shoulder and flipped his phone open, hoping it wasn’t bad news.

“Merlin? It’s Morgana.”

“Hi.”

“How are you?”

“I’m okay. Is everything okay? Uncle Uther?”

“He’s doing his best under the circumstances. We’re fine here. Getting by.”

“Good. I mean. Not good, but you know what I mean.”

“I do.”

Merlin walked out of the heavy flow of pedestrian traffic on Lexington Avenue and turned down 69th street, looking for somewhere to sit. Morgana didn’t call out of the blue without a reason. 

“So, what’s up?”

“Hunith gave me your number. She said you and Arthur were having some kind of tiff.”

Merlin stiffened and felt a moment of annoyance. “She did, huh?”

“Don’t be cross with her. She’s concerned, and it sounds as though she has reason to be.”

“It’s not…it’ll be okay, Morgana. I really can’t talk about it.” Merlin found a stoop and dropped his backpack. He leaned against the railing on the steps and was relieved to find he was in no danger of crying at this particular moment.

“I think that’s what has your mum worried, Merlin. Since when do we have secrets from each other?”

Merlin had been keeping a secret as long as he could remember. This whole thing might as well be about his coming out. He’d dreaded it for so long, and now coming out to his whole family seemed minor compared with the secret he and Arthur were carrying.

“Some things are private. Can’t some things be private?”

“That sounds reasonable, but this is family, Merlin. You mean everything to Arthur. If he’s done something to mess that up, I can’t help but want to fix it.”

Merlin chuckled. “I love how you assume this is Arthur’s fault.”

“Oh, Merlin, dear. We both know it couldn’t be otherwise.”

His smile fell. “Morgana, it’s not his fault.”

Merlin waited for something snide in response, but instead Morgana sighed. “Can you talk to me, Merlin? I want to help.”

He let himself sink to the stoop and hunched over his backpack. “He found out I’m gay.” Merlin was surprised by how easily the words came this time.

“Oh.”

“I’m gay, by the way.”

“I love you, Merlin. You know that?”

“Yeah.”

“So you told Arthur, or he found out—”

“He walked in on me and someone…”

“Oh, OH. I get it now.”

Merlin worried he’d said too much already. He didn’t want to hang Arthur on a version of the story that wasn’t accurate. He didn’t know how to talk about any of this. “It’s not—Morgana, don’t be mad at him. I should’ve told him. He was surprised, is all.”

“If that were all, you two would be talking. I’m pretty sure he’s not a big homophobe.”

“He just didn’t approve of the guy.”

“Or he was a little jealous, maybe?”

Merlin coughed over his surprise. “No! What?”

“You heard me Merlin.”

“I’m not, I just, that’s not—” 

“Merlin, I know my brother. And you too. You’ve both been a little gone over each other since you were kids. It’s not a big deal. I can imagine finding out you’re gay would throw Arthur for a loop.”

“It did, I guess.”

“Okay, I see.” Morgana hummed into the phone for a minute and let a moment of silence open between them. “He doesn’t want to lose you, you know. It sounds like you both just need some time, maybe.”

“That’s what I said.” He was relieved that Morgana wasn’t pushing for more. Had she already talked to Arthur? He was too surprised to process the rest. 

“I’ve had this vision, Merlin, since we were young. Of you and Arthur, tottering around with each other in your old age.” Merlin wasn’t sure what she meant by that, tottering around. “You’re his best friend, Merlin. Give him a chance to be your friend, okay?”

Friends, yes. That’s what Morgana meant. That’s what was right.

~o~O~o~

Merlin made it to calculus with ten minutes to spare. He opened his laptop and logged into his email. The girl who sat directly behind him in class would be in soon, so he hurried to get the email out before she could read over his shoulder.

 _We should probably talk. Mum knows something is up and Morgana just called to grill me. I’m sorry, but I told her some of what happened. Not what happened between us, but about me being gay and you catching me with Gwaine. She kind of jumped to conclusions anyway. It was weird. I’m sorry if I said more than I should, I just didn’t know what to say._

Freya was coming up his aisle, so he hit send before he could agonise over how to sign the email.

He was jumpy through class, wondering if Arthur would reply before the day was over. Merlin didn’t know if Arthur checked his personal email while he was at work. 

When class ended, Merlin was tempted to check for a reply before leaving his desk, but Freya was hovering. He didn’t get back to his computer until after lunch. He dropped into a carrel in the library and went straight to his email. His heart pounded when he saw a message from Arthur in his inbox. They never emailed. He wondered what Arthur might say to him in an email.

He opened it.

_Don’t worry about Morgana. Talk to you tonight. – Arthur_

Merlin’s hopes sunk. Stupid. What did he think Arthur was going to say? What was it he wanted Arthur to say, anyway? A few days ago, the thought of talking to Arthur caused paralytic fear. There were no grand gestures, not even from Arthur, that could change the situation. The only change that could make things better was a change in how he felt, and he didn’t know if that would ever change. Even through his anguish he was still dreaming of Arthur’s touch when he slept, still felt Arthur’s pull like a magnet.

Merlin stalled going home as long as he could. It was nearly seven o’clock when he was making his way up DeKalb and his mobile rang.

“You almost home?” 

“Close. Just at the park.”

“Auntie’s home. Why don’t I come meet you in the park. I’ll tell her we’re going to be out for a bit.”

Merlin’s stomach was knotted by the time Arthur found him sitting under his favourite tree. The park was all sloped grass in the middle, but there was a heavy ring of trees around the edges and the paths, and Merlin liked the corner of the park closest to DeKalb and Cumberland. He knew Arthur would look for him there.

Arthur appeared ten minutes later, dropped in front of him with his knees bent up, and tore at a blade of grass. “Hi.” 

Merlin felt Arthur’s eyes on him and couldn’t bring himself to meet them. “Hi,” he said, watching Arthur turn the blade of grass around his fingers.

“So, they’re on your case too?” Arthur failed at the light tone his words suggested. 

“Yeah.” 

It was quiet, and Merlin used his thumb to burrow into the dirt under the grass, feeling the cool, wet soil under the dry scrub.

“Are you going to talk to me, Merlin, or just—”

“Yeah, sorry.” Merlin looked up and met Arthur’s gaze. He couldn’t read his cousin’s expression, but Arthur’s eyes were hard, and Merlin was dazed for a moment by how distant they were. Was he looking at the brick wall? “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Why don’t you let me start?” Merlin nodded. He looked down, and Arthur followed the movement of his eyes with his head, ducking down to keep Merlin’s attention on him. He tried to look away but Arthur shook his head and Merlin tracked his sight back to Arthur. Arthur’s eyes looked softer now. Or maybe Merlin didn’t know what he saw. “I’m sorry, Merlin.”

“This isn’t your—”

“Can you let me finish?” 

Merlin didn’t want an apology. He didn’t want to hear regret, either, as much as he felt it himself. He sniffed and gestured for Arthur to continue. 

“I shouldn’t have done what I did, Merlin. You’re sixteen and you’re my cousin, and I know better.” Merlin felt sick. Arthur did regret it. Of course he did. 

He was talking to Merlin like he was a helpless child. He closed his eyes against the sadness and cursed the prickling tears behind his eyes. He didn’t want Arthur to see him cry over this. He’d cried enough over the past week and a half. 

Merlin squeezed his eyes shut tighter and still felt the slide of wet over his nose. He dropped his head and swiped his palm over his face, and then there were rough hands grabbing at him, pulling him into strong arms. His body leaned into the embrace against his will. “Merlin,” Arthur said into the top of his head. “It’s okay. I’m so sorry.”

Merlin shook his head and pulled himself away. “Stop apologising. I get it. You wish it hadn’t happened. Can we just forget about it?”

Arthur shook his head and blew air through puffed cheeks. “Obviously we can’t just forget, or we wouldn’t be having this conversation hiding out in a park after not talking for over a week.”

Merlin nodded. “Can we try?”

“I guess we have to try. But, Merlin, I’m having a hard time.”

Merlin felt like he needed an interpreter, but was too embarrassed to ask for one. Or too afraid to get the translation. “What do you want me to do?”

“It’s not your responsibility. I just. I think we need to be careful, is all. I need to be careful. For both our sakes.”

Merlin thought about Gwen for the first time in days. He wondered whether Arthur would have told her. Careful. Arthur hadn’t been too careful with Gwen, had he? Merlin wanted to argue, wanted to rage at Arthur, but he wanted to be able to talk to Arthur more. So he nodded acceptance that they would take care. He didn’t understand what that meant, exactly, but he didn’t ask. 

The light was fading under the tree-cover, and Merlin couldn’t think of anything they could say that would bring down the brick wall that stood unshaken by their conversation. They went home and put on a half-hearted show of reconciliation for Hunith, and at bedtime, Merlin went without question to his futon.

~o~O~o~

Merlin skipped Gwaine’s going-away party uptown, but nothing short of being struck by a semi was going to explain his absence from the send-off gathering in Prospect Park on Sunday. He’d escaped to the library early that morning in what was becoming routine avoidance of Arthur. On the subway to the park, later, he read, battling to keep his mind still. Gwen would be there, with Arthur, presumably. He’d have to deal with all of them in the same place. If he let his mind linger for even a moment, he’d talk himself out of going, and he couldn’t do that to Gwaine.

Merlin’s heart was jumping in his throat as he approached the knot of his friends not far from the stretch of lawn where he’d met Gwaine the previous weekend. Arthur was the first person to catch his eye, and his racing pulse fell into his stomach. Something flickered in Arthur’s expression, indecipherable, and Merlin took in his broad shoulders, the straight, regal lines of his face, with the same warring impulses he’d been battling for the whole six weeks his cousin had been here. Nothing had changed for him, he realised sadly. Arthur was still the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. Maybe he’d always feel this way when he looked at Arthur.

Gwen swung out from behind Arthur and barrelled at him. She was beaming in a bright floral sundress, and for one horrifying second he imagined killing that sun inside her with what he’d done. “Merlin! Where’ve you been?” She hugged him around the waist and he gingerly wrapped his arms around her back, afraid of putting a lie into the touch. “I’ve missed you,” she said into his chest. Merlin looked over her head and saw they had everyone’s attention. 

It looked like he was the last one to arrive. Gwaine was poking at a sorry-looking fire in the pit, and waved him over. Gwen stuck to his side as he nodded at Elyan and Lance, and avoided the trail of Arthur’s gaze. Gwaine handed his poker to Lance and tugged Merlin away from Gwen, who let him go with a tinkle of a laugh. “Hey.” Gwaine pulled him into a rough embrace and pounded him on the back, and for one quick moment Merlin let himself sink into Gwaine’s neck. It wasn’t long enough to form a thought around words, but Merlin felt the tug to stay there, hide in the warm flesh and forget about the choices he’d made. “Everything’s okay,” Gwaine said into his ear, gruffly, but too low for anyone else to hear. 

Merlin forced himself to straighten up, and he and Gwaine let go of each other. When Merlin glanced around he felt dazed, his mind lagging a pace behind his eyes. Something was off. Elyan’s smile was tight, Arthur was somewhere behind him, invisible. Lance stood with his arm slung around Gwen’s waist, and Gwen looking almost beatific with joy. Will and Elena were picking themselves up off a blanket behind Gwen and Lance as though they were emerging from another picnic, a private one. 

Merlin’s eyes shifted back to Lance and Gwen, their posture unmistakable. “Oh for God’s sake, did you all leave Merlin in the dark?” It was Will. 

Merlin focused enough to notice Gwen was smiling shyly at a spot on the ground. “So…” Merlin started.

“Lance and I are dating,” Gwen got out. Her voice was steady even if her eyes were still playing a game of avoidance. “It’s not a big deal,” she said, directed at Will.

Lance smiled and squeezed Gwen’s shoulder, and his expression said it was a very big deal. 

Elena snorted and Will elbowed her. 

Merlin glanced around then and found Arthur standing by the fire with Gwaine, the two of them doing their best to distract Elyan. Elyan’s slouch was out of character, but his frown was more resigned than murderous. Merlin figured Elyan’d had a lot of time—years probably—to prepare for the inevitable.

“Merlin, help us with the grill,” Gwaine called, and in a moment everyone had relaxed back into conversation. Elyan and Arthur prodded Gwaine for details about his itinerary, details Merlin had never felt composed enough to ask about. Gwaine was headed to Parris Island, South Carolina for twelve weeks of what sounded, to Merlin, like hell. He didn’t imagine Gwaine would have much trouble with the physical rigours, but the complete submission to authority and probable hazing seemed such an unlikely choice. Merlin still didn’t understand, and he felt himself sink at the thought of how little he really knew Gwaine. 

Arthur was subdued. He teased Gwaine that he’d have to learn how to tuck in a shirt, but his tone was flat. 

When they’d settled with burgers and hotdogs, Gwen pulled him onto her corner of the picnic blanket and angled herself away from the others. Merlin was manoeuvring a soggy gherkin onto his burger when Gwen nudged his knee. “Hey.”

Merlin looked up and her dark gaze settled him. She had her back to the sun and her eyes opened wide. “You seem happy.”

“I am. Like, crazy happy.” Her expression softened. “What about you, Merlin? Something’s up. Arthur keeps saying everything’s fine, but you disappeared.”

“Is Arthur…what happened?” Merlin winced at his own question. It wasn’t what he’d meant to ask. 

“He didn’t tell you?”

The things Arthur didn’t tell him these days made it hurt to swallow, the regret sharp and dangerous in his throat. He shook his head.

“He’s been pushing me to tell Lance how I felt since I met him. Then a couple of weeks ago he said if I didn’t do it, he was going to. He was kind of an asshole about it, but he was right.”

Merlin wanted to push for a precise date and time, the information somehow critical even though he knew it changed nothing. He resisted asking. “So, you don’t think he’s jealous?”

Gwen laughed, and he felt his brows knit together. “Merlin, you look so confused.” Merlin chewed on the inside of his lip. “It was never like that with me and Arthur.” She dug her elbow into his arm and laughed again. “You didn’t think we were…”

He had. Of course he had. He’d seen the way they touched. They’d never said, but why else… He knew it was plain on his face.

“Oh, shit, Merlin. I’m sorry. I should’ve realised. I mean, not that it matters, but you’re my best friend. I would’ve told you if I had something going on with your cousin.”

“But you guys went out all the time, just the two of you. He always had his arms around you. I know he was interested.”

“Yeah, and I was a little too, but we never really clicked like that. He mostly wanted to talk.” Gwen pulled off a corner of her hamburger bun and rolled it between her fingers. “He’s going through a lot, I think. I don’t need to tell you.”  
That could mean so many things, and Merlin didn’t dare venture a guess. Luckily Gwen continued before he had to. “Everything with his father, and his view of the world. I think he gets off on talking to someone who has such different life experiences than he does. And he’s smart. I like him.”

Of course that’s what Gwen meant. And now that she said it, Merlin could begin to understand. A part of him felt relief. A part of him felt some new hurt blossoming in his chest and he tamped it down, knowing it wasn’t safe to examine it until later.

Gwaine plunked down hard into his side and looked between he and Gwen, shaking his head so that his long hair fell into his eyes. “So serious.”

“You ready to say goodbye to your hair?” Gwen gave a husky laugh. 

Gwaine ran his fingers through it as he pushed it off his face. “Think so. It grows back.” 

“Uh-huh.” Gwen pursed her lips and shook her head. And then pushed up on her knees and looked around. “I’m gonna catch up with Elena. Leave you two alone.” She winked.

Merlin watched her rise and caught sight of Arthur leaning against a tree, talking to Lance. Arthur’s shoulders were dropped, relaxed, his back and hips pressed into the bark and a lazy smile on his face. If he was upset about Lance stealing Gwen away, he hid it well.

“What’dya think of this development?” Gwaine’s grin betrayed nothing but amusement. 

Merlin shrugged. What did he think? “I’m happy for them.” He took a bite of his veggie burger and Gwaine watched him chew. He’d felt off-balance for weeks, like he’d lost his centre, and he was having trouble following even the simplest of his own thoughts. Gwaine’s gaze pushed his attention to one thread he hadn’t had the energy to pull. He swallowed and tugged at it. “I’m gonna miss you.”

Gwaine’s smile faltered and then recovered. “You’ll write?”

“Sure.” He meant it. 

“I expect you to have solved global warming by my first leave.”

Merlin forced a smile. “I expect you to bring world peace.”

Gwaine threw his head back and laughed, loudly, and Merlin saw Arthur’s attention catch. He was watching them. Watching him. Merlin averted his eyes back to Gwaine and enjoyed his rolling laughter. “We’re in trouble if you think it’s so funny.”

Gwaine wiped his eyes, wet from the belly laugh. “You’re awesome, Merlin.” Gwaine swatted him on the side of the head. “Hey.” Gwaine’s mouth flattened and his eyes calmed. “I really wish…”

Merlin nodded. He did too. And he didn’t. He felt Arthur’s eyes on him and knew in a physical way that the off-centred feeling, the feeling that someone had kicked the legs out from under him, was about Arthur. Gwaine made so much sense, and what was in his bones and his heart made none. _I’ll grow out of this_ , he thought, and nodded again at Gwaine again.

~o~O~o~

Merlin and Arthur walked the last blocks home alone after saying goodbye to their friends. Will had managed to pry himself away from Elena for the first half of the walk, and Merlin was grateful for the easy company, and for all the things Will didn’t ask. They hadn’t talked since he’d told Will the half-story about Arthur walking in on Gwaine and him. Will didn’t pry.

Arthur was quiet by his side and Merlin had no words to break through the silence. When they got to their corner, Arthur slowed and caught his arm. “Hey.” 

Merlin stopped and forced his attention away from the warm tingle where Arthur’s hand met his skin. “Yeah?”

“I just wanted to say.” Arthur looked past him for a moment. “I’m sorry. About Gwaine.” 

Merlin nodded. It was a generous thing to say, and Merlin’s low mood sank further at the words. “It’s okay.”

“I just want you to know that I think Gwaine’s great. And you deserve that.” Merlin nodded absently and willed himself to get through this conversation without having to talk about Gwaine. Arthur’s hand had dropped, and Merlin could still feel its imprint on his skin. “I’m worried about him.”

Merlin bit at the pad of his thumb. “Me too.” And all of a sudden it hit him why learning that he and Arthur hadn’t been cheating on Gwen upset him when it should have been a relief. He’d hoped that was it, on some level: a simple rivalry. But Arthur was free, had been the whole time, and he had nothing against Gwaine anymore either. He’d grabbed something and then been repulsed by the impulse. Merlin had felt overwhelming shame, but he wanted Arthur. Arthur’s regret was simpler, he just didn’t want Merlin.

Merlin turned and walked the last block home with Arthur a step behind.

~o~O~o~

The month of August passed in a dull ache. At home, Merlin and Arthur managed to be civil. The news from Wales had remained grim, but Arthur didn’t confide in him. Merlin had no idea where Arthur spent his evenings or weekends. It wasn’t with him. It wasn’t with Gwen, either. And Gwaine was hundreds of miles south getting his ass kicked in boot camp.

Will was hot and heavy with Elena now that she was back from the Berkshires, but he checked in on Merlin a couple times a week and they hung out on Sunday nights. Gwen made time for him during the week and disappeared into her relationship with Lance on the weekends. Merlin poured his energy into his classes, and when they ended toward the end of August, he looked forward gratefully to the start of his senior year. Arthur’s university semester started in early October, and he was scheduled to leave mid-September.

School picked up after Labour Day, and Merlin got his first email from Gwaine that week. He was only four weeks into basic training, still on the same coast, but he might as well have been writing from another dimension for all that Merlin could imagine Marine boot camp. He’d made some friends. He had a gun now. And he hadn’t forgotten that night. “ _I hope you and Arthur have worked things out, Merlin. You two were close and I feel like shit that anything I did changed that._ ”

Merlin felt like shit that Gwaine blamed himself. He had fucked things up all on his own. He’d write to Gwaine and thank him. He owed a lot to him, coming out to Will being only the start of it.

That night, Arthur came home early and sat next to Merlin at the kitchen table. “I heard from Gwaine today.” Merlin nodded. “He sounds okay.”

“Yeah. I got an email, too.”

Arthur watched Merlin doodling on his notebook, his elbow spread over a textbook. “I’m leaving soon.” Merlin looked up and Arthur was focused on his pencilled scrawl. “Let’s do something before I go. Next week, maybe?”

~o~O~o~

Merlin checked the time on his phone as he jogged down the hall to his locker. He had ten minutes to get his books and get to the subway or he’d be late to meet Arthur for breakfast. It was a silly idea, a touristy thing to do. But it was the first time Arthur had asked him to spend time out of the house since July. He had a couple of hours before his first class up at Hunter, having exhausted the entire offering of his high school science department. Merlin spun through the numbers on his combination lock and heard it click. He tugged but it didn’t open. _Fuck_. He knew he should’ve dealt with this before school let out last year. He jammed his shoulder into it and yelped as he slammed into the solidity of the rusty olive metal. “Ouch.”

Merlin looked up the hall for help, but everyone was in first period and it was too early for the occasionally truant to be wandering the halls. He checked his phone. He was going to be late.

He tried the combination again and pulled hard, with no luck. Frustration clawed at his throat. He felt like he was missing something, a chance at something. He called Arthur’s mobile and got his voicemail. “I’m running late, sorry. Maybe you should head up without me. I’ll call you when I get off the train.”

Merlin spent the next five minutes banging on his locker door until the side of his hand was sore. He leaned his forehead into the cool metal and blew air up at his fringe. “Fuck.” His foot kicked at the bottom of the door, mindlessly, and it twanged and bounced open. His heart raced. He grabbed his books and shoved them into the half-empty backpack and slammed the locker shut as hard as he could. It wasn’t so bad. He’d said he’d meet Arthur at eight thirty, and he’d be ten minutes late. Not so bad.

The subway at rush hour was a soul-sucking affair, and Merlin thought of Arthur as he boarded the crowded train. Arthur did this every day to get to the UN, and had never once complained about it. The wrenching angles his body was pushed into in order to occupy less than a square foot of space were bad enough. It was the expressions of the other riders that Merlin found unbearable. 

New York City was the life on the street at three in the morning, the smell of pastry in the West Village, and the generosity it took for eight million people to share such a small space; it was not the grim, worn-down faces on the subway at eight twenty on a Tuesday morning. Merlin didn’t like to think of his city this way. A young woman and her daughter sat on the seats beneath where he stood, hanging on a strap. The little girl, eight or nine or ten, he couldn’t tell, was the only person in his view who looked content. The man whose elbow was jutting into Merlin’s ribs just under his armpit was sweating over the collar of his shirt, his skin red and pinched from the choke of his tie. The train lurched and sped, and Merlin swayed at the mercy of the bodies pressed around his. He breathed through his mouth and pulled his backpack around to his side so he could keep better track of the contents. He’d had his wallet stolen out of it on a crowded train a year earlier, and he’d only vaguely learned his lesson. 

Finally the train pulled into his stop. Merlin was buzzing with nervous energy, from running late but mostly from the anticipation of spending a morning with Arthur. He missed this. He’d let things get too strained for too long, and he missed Arthur’s friendship as much as anything else about him. Merlin shuffled with the other riders onto the platform, and then elbowed his way through the crowd to get to the steps that led up to the street. There was no rushing at rush hour, but he wasn’t much more than fifteen minutes late. Arthur might have waited. 

As he was pushing his way up the last flight of stairs, with his backpack hugged to his chest, a thunderous sound reverberated through the stones of the stairwell. It sounded like a construction accident, like a crane had fallen or part of a building had collapsed. The people around him slowed only minutely, looking around at each other to see similarly curious expressions as they herded out onto the street. 

At first Merlin didn’t see it. He was looking toward the street corner, looking at the people moving around him, trying to pick out a golden head and the cut of Arthur’s suit. It was the eyes cast skyward that sent his own in that direction. As Merlin craned his neck, the air choked out of him before he could register what he was seeing. Screams—not many, but there in the hum of the city that hadn’t yet been broken—wormed into his consciousness, and people were starting to run, most away from the sight but some towards it. For what unfathomable reason? For the same reason Merlin moved, numbly, toward the tower pierced through with the body of an airplane, churning smoke in utter unreality. 

They’d planned to meet on the steps of the plaza below the towers. Arthur. _Arthur_. Merlin’s sight blurred and his face was wet before he could think beyond Arthur’s name. Would he have gone up without him? He pulled out his mobile and rang Arthur, got his voicemail again. Merlin’s throat was dry and his voice cracked over the words. “Arthur,” he was openly crying now. “Where are you? Please…call.” 

Merlin closed his phone and pocketed it, picking up speed as he moved toward the plaza. Sirens were approaching steadily in his direction, wailing cries and flashing lights surrounding him as he pushed his way and started calling Arthur’s name into the crowd. The police and fire engines reached the block before he could set foot on the plaza; uniformed men and women jumped out and began waving people away. The plaza was clearing out as debris and smoke filled the sky. His mind couldn’t make sense of the horror. 

He walked in a daze to the corner of Church and Warren, and set his backpack down between his legs, running his palm hard over his forehead. He was sweating in the September heat, sun relentless and perfect in the marred sky above. He pulled out his mobile again, thinking maybe Hunith had heard from Arthur. Maybe Arthur had gotten called to work, or missed his train. _Please let him be anywhere else_ , he chanted to himself. He got a pre-recorded message: the lines were dead. 

Merlin wasn’t even sure which tower had been hit. Maybe…just maybe… He hated himself for thinking it. No matter which tower it was, there were people up there. Other people’s Arthur. And then he felt the edges of his sanity begin to crack when the rush of a jet engine approached from overhead, deafening, too low, unreal, and he looked up in time to see it careen into the second tower. His whole heart sank through his body and he let out a wail that stunned him. Smoke and fire erupted on impact, and now he heard the stunned pall fall over the blocks around him.

Merlin needed to do something, _something_. His mind was awash in thoughts of fire, the heat, the chemical reactions he could divine without even looking to see the evidence there before him. He let himself think about all of it at once, what it meant to all the people up there, to the people on the ground, possibly to the world, but in the background was the mantra, _Arthur, Arthur, Arthur_.

Police were coming up the block now, asking onlookers to get their distance. The air was beginning to smell, huge plumes of smoke rising but debris still filtering down to the street level. No one kicked Merlin off his corner, and he settled there, incapable of thinking beyond the moment. He noticed people coming out of the subway, apparently turned away as service was cut off. Men and women milled around, some trying to get closer to the towers and others moving to get away from the danger. 

A rope had been wrapped around Merlin’s heart and was strangling it in his chest. He was lightheaded with grief, confused. He caught snippets of conversation around him, most people moving at an even pace, in shock but not panic. They were a safe distance from the towers, but the world was coming apart at the seams and most of the faces around him were startlingly calm.

“…they’ll need blood…”

“St. Vincent’s.”

Merlin overheard the fragment of a conversation. That was something to do. He didn’t want to leave his spot, dreaded moving further away from Arthur. But he had to do something, and it didn’t look like he’d be allowed to get close enough to the plaza to find Arthur anytime soon. If Arthur were hurt, they’d bring him to the closest hospital.

Merlin joined a tide of business suits, some still clean, some smudged as though they’d been closer, had fled. He walked north. Strangers spoke to each other, kindly. Some pulled out cameras and snapped shots behind them. 

He was at the north end of Tribeca when gasps around him turned his head back to the towers. The tower. Next to a single tower was a column of smoke where its twin had been. Merlin felt his legs crumble under him and he fell to his knees. The rope around his heart pulled tighter and he found himself praying. 

A hand on his shoulder made him turn, and a young woman in a pencil skirt and blouse, looking like she’d just stepped out of a trendy Tribeca office, stood above him. “Do you have someone up there?” she asked, gently. 

Merlin tried to speak and the words sounded like they were coming from someone else. “I don’t know where he is. I don’t know.”

“Do you need help?” Merlin shook his head. He needed Arthur. “I can walk with you,” she said.

Merlin stumbled to his feet and loomed over the woman. She looked kind, eyes bright with tears and shoulder length hair wild around her face, skin darker than Gwen’s. “Okay. I want to get to the hospital.”

She nodded. “Me too. Not much else we can do.”

They stood in silence on the small traffic island where he had melted to the ground. Car traffic had stopped. Flames. They could see flames crawling up Church Street in the distance, and the echo of sirens. They watched in shock until a huge explosion shot a mushroom cloud and dropped the second tower to rubble before their eyes. Merlin felt his last hope die with the glass and steel that imploded as he looked on. The sky where the towers stood was black with smoke, and he choked on the sobs hammering out of his chest. His heart couldn’t possibly beat out another beat. He had no idea how he still breathed. The woman next to him was crying silently. She wiped her face and wrapped an arm around his middle. 

She steered him in a daze up to St. Vincent’s. He wasn’t sure what he expected to find, but the lines of people snaking around the blocks in the approach to the hospital shouldn’t have surprised him. He stood still while the woman approached a man in dreads and scrubs and asked some questions. She came back to him and talked to him as gently as she had handled him so far. “The hospital is turning people away.” Merlin’s eyes grew wide. “Not patients. Blood donors. They have more than they can use right now.” Merlin looked around for the ambulances. There should be ambulances rushing uptown, injuries rolling into the hospital. But the streets were still, the sun blazing above.

Merlin found a curb across Seventh Avenue to sit. Without car traffic, the city felt quiet. Whatever horrors were happening two miles away were nearly silent in the West Village. The smoke was taking over the sky of lower Manhattan.

Merlin sat with his companion, and the two of them watched the disturbing calm at St. Vincent’s from across the street. “What do you think it means?” she asked. He shrugged. They both knew what it meant.

“I think I should try to get home,” she said, finally. Merlin pulled his phone out of his jeans’ pocket. It was almost noon. They’d been sitting there for hours. “Where do you live?”

“Brooklyn.”

“Me too.” 

Merlin thought of his mother. It should’ve occurred to him earlier. She would be worried about him. About _them_. His heart should have told him that, but his heart was dead. “My mum. I should…”

“Yeah. My husband…” The woman stopped and he watched her cry. He didn’t even know her name.

“Where is he?”

She wiped her face and shook her head. “I’m sure he’s fine. He works on Wall Street. I can’t imagine he was anywhere near…”

“He’ll be looking for you.”

She nodded. 

They got up and walked, once it was clear the trains weren’t running. People were walking the bridges, so they headed south again, agreeing on the Brooklyn Bridge. Merlin was surprised as they got closer that no one stopped them. The Brooklyn Bridge was only blocks away from the towers. Police steered them east when they got south of Canal Street, but they were part of a thick crowd heading for the bridge.

A block from the Brooklyn Bridge, Merlin started to panic. He’d been numb since the second tower fell, but now the thought of leaving, the thought of walking the miles back to Brooklyn and leaving Arthur…

He stopped moving and the woman walked a few steps ahead before she stopped and turned. She waited for him to explain. “What if…?”

“Your friend?”

“My cousin.” _My everything_. “What if he’s hurt somewhere?”

She came back to Merlin and took his hand. “What can you do? He’ll be taken care of if he’s hurt. They’ll return him to you. You need to go to your mother.”

He felt fresh tears on his cheek, a miracle from his dead heart. They walked the last block past the federal courthouse and the dark shadows thrown by the glowering municipal building across from City Hall. There wasn’t the smallest cloud in the sky, and Merlin was sweating at the small of his back and behind his knees. His feet ached in his sneakers. 

And then from a distance he saw the side of a blond head, a man sitting on the ground, his back against a pylon at the entrance to the bridge. Merlin’s strangled heart gave a hopeful thump. Not dead. He felt the tears again and choked on the fear that hope inspired. He could be wrong. It could be anyone. 

He walked faster and the woman beside him skipped to keep up. “Do you see someone?”

Merlin nodded blindly through his tears as they came on the man and hope grew. The dress shirt, bent knees in suit pants he recognised, the hands covering a face he knew. “Arthur?” he called out as he approached. He was weeping now, almost sure. Not sure enough.

Arthur looked up at him, his eyes red and cheeks smudged dark with soot. Merlin fell to his knees before him just as Arthur tried to lift himself up. “Merlin!” Arthur’s voice broke on his name and he launched himself at Merlin, wrapped his arms tightly around Merlin’s neck and pulled him in, cheek to cheek. “Thank God, thank God,” Arthur said into his cheek. “Oh, thank God.” Arthur’s body shook, wracked with sobs, and he buried his face into Merlin’s neck. Merlin held him and thought maybe he’d never let go. 

Merlin felt the rope around his heart loosen in Arthur’s embrace. How many people would wander the streets today and never find their loved ones? He swore to himself in Arthur’s arms that he’d never be less than grateful. 

“I was so scared, Merlin,” Arthur said, pulling his head back to look at Merlin. He was stroking Merlin’s hair with one hand and had his other wrapped tightly around the back of his neck. “So fucking scared, Merlin. I thought—”

“I know. Me too. I thought you’d gone up.”

Arthur took a shaky breath and nodded. “I was late.” He put his forehead to Merlin’s. “I tried to get in the building after the first plane hit, to find you, but…it was awful. And then people were evacuating. I looked everywhere.”

“I was just coming out of the subway,” Merlin said. Arthur had been so close. 

Arthur’s hands slid around to his cheeks. Arthur ran his palms over Merlin’s face, rubbed one of his palms down Merlin’s chest and held it over his heart, the heart that beat again. “We should go home. Hunith will be wrecked.” 

Merlin nodded but wasn’t ready to let go. Arthur pulled them both to their feet, hugged him into his chest again and stood there, rocking on his feet. When Arthur stepped back Merlin still hung on, kept an arm around his waist and looked up for the first time since he’d laid eyes on Arthur. 

The woman he’d been with all morning was standing to the side, waiting for him. She’d been crying again, but she had a small smile on her lips as she watched the two of them. Merlin nodded in her direction. “Arthur.” 

She took a step toward them and held out a hand. “This is…”

“Anita.” She shook Arthur’s hand and put a hand on Merlin’s cheek. “I’m so glad you found him.” 

“I’m Merlin. This is my cousin, Arthur.” 

“Are you headed to Brooklyn?” Arthur asked. She nodded and the three of them began the long walk home.

~o~O~o~

Almost two hours later, they limped up the last flight of stairs to Merlin’s home. A wail went up from the living room when they pushed the door open, and Hunith collapsed in Gwen’s arms. Will and Elena were there, too, all of them crowded into the living room. Hunith’s collapse and their friends’ expressions as Merlin and Arthur came through the door said everything about what the morning had been like back in Brooklyn. Merlin had told Will about his plan to meet Arthur for a visit to the World Trade Center observation deck early that morning.

“We’re okay,” Arthur said as they were surrounded. Hunith wept into Merlin’s chest and he comforted her while Arthur accepted a tearful hug from Gwen. Will crowded into a hug with him and his mum, and then he watched Will give Arthur a handshake that Arthur turned into a one-armed embrace. Elena kissed Arthur and him on the cheek and laughed through her tears. The TV was on in the background, and the horrors of the morning were playing over again, as if they’d been on repeat for hours. 

It was early evening when Hunith released her grip on her son. Will and Elena left first, their loved ones all on this side of the East River. They’d clearly feared the worst, and were emotionally wrung out from the day. Gwen lingered. Elyan was unreachable, but most certainly up at Columbia and far from any harm. Lance had deferred college for a year and was working at a homeless shelter in Queens. He’d been on a train when the first plane hit and had been able to call Gwen before most mobile service went out. He’d decided to work his shift and would be back when the slow moving train made its way back to Brooklyn.

Arthur had emailed Morgana and Uther to let them know he was okay as soon as they’d gotten back to Brooklyn, and continued to try to get through to them by phone until he got a relieved reply from them. Otherwise, he spent the afternoon glued to Merlin’s side. He retold the events of the morning flatly, watching Merlin as he spoke. 

Gwen forced them all to pick at the leftovers in the fridge for dinner and then said a tearful goodnight. Hunith reluctantly turned in just after seven, with the light still bright enough that it felt like afternoon. She was shattered from the day of worry. 

Merlin was having trouble remaining conscious himself, but he dreaded letting Arthur out of his sight. “Let’s lie down,” Arthur said, before excusing himself for a quick shower. Merlin sat in a daze at the edge of his bed and made his own way to the shower with a clean pair of boxers when Arthur appeared in a towel. His mind couldn’t work beyond the relief. 

In his bed, with Arthur beside him, Merlin traced the cracked plaster in the ceiling and tried to get the sight of the burning, impaled towers out of his vision. Arthur took his hand by his side and squeezed. 

They lay quietly for a long time, and then Arthur rolled closer, put a hand on Merlin’s cheek, and pressed his forehead into Merlin’s temple. “I’m so fucking sorry, Merlin.” Merlin was quiet. “I’m never. Never letting anything happen to you, okay?”

Merlin huffed. He loved Arthur’s protectiveness, but it was silly. What was he going to do? Arthur wasn’t his bodyguard. Bad things happened. He didn’t want to waste time feeling the way he’d felt though. He knew that much.

“I’m serious.”

Merlin turned toward Arthur now, looked him in the eye, too close, getting mostly a view of that patrician nose and the sweep of his lashes. “It’s not all up to you, Arthur. No one let this happen.”

Arthur’s hand slipped around the back of his neck and tugged. For one fraction of a second Merlin was bewildered, thought he might resist, but then his mouth found Arthur’s and they clung to each other in that connection, greedy for it, lost in it. The warmth of Arthur’s dry lips, the wet swipe of his tongue, the awkward click of teeth on teeth as they pushed into the kiss, massaged the pain in Merlin’s chest, let relief settle into his bones. He’d felt off his own axis for over a month now, and Arthur’s body against his, mouth pressed on his and searching, promising things, shoved something back into place. It was the world lining up around him; even in desperate madness, even in the shadow of such destruction, he felt it all making sense. 

They fell asleep like that, hot against each other, mouths working in lust and then in comfort, and finally sharing each other’s breath in sleep. And they woke like that, face-to-face, legs knotted and arms sticky with sweat where skin met skin. There was no awkwardness on that Wednesday morning. “Thank fucking God, Merlin,” was the first thing Arthur said before they got up and spent the day in front of the TV, making phone calls, sending emails, reassuring loved ones near and far that they were safe. 

Arthur wasn’t able to fly out until the following week, a few days later than planned. He and Arthur were never out of each other’s sight for more than the time that it took to shower. Arthur’s internship had effectively ended with the fall of the towers, and Merlin’s school was closed for the rest of the week, his classes at Hunter cancelled. At night they held each other and met with mouths hungry and searching, kissing until they slept. Arthur never tried to touch him below the waist, and despite his own painful arousal, Merlin was grateful they had found some middle-ground that felt safe in the aftermath of the summer behind them. It would end as soon as Arthur left, and would probably never happen again, but he’d never again take a moment with Arthur for granted. His guilt had vanished with the towers. His longing was bone-deep and scared him, but at least in this moment, with Arthur as needy as he was, he wasn’t going to worry about what it would feel like to lose the closeness.

Arthur didn’t say so, but he was obviously afraid to fly. Merlin and his mum rode the subway and shuttle to JFK with Arthur, and Merlin and Arthur held hands openly. Hunith didn’t give them a second look. She knew how close they’d come to losing each other. There was nothing to hide. The airport was chaos, and Merlin felt himself unravelling in the last moments before they said goodbye. He wasn’t sure he knew how to be without Arthur anymore.

But life keeps moving. They embraced. They couldn’t find any words. Hunith told Arthur to call as soon as he’d had a nap, and to give Morgana and Uther hugs from them. 

Uther was in bad shape, Merlin gathered. It was good Arthur would be there. Merlin tried to hold onto rational thoughts like that as he felt his last grip on Arthur slip off his back.


	3. Chapter 3

**PART III**

**December 2006  
New York, NY**

 

Merlin’s fingers hovered over his keyboard, words entirely beyond his grasp. He twitched a little when Sergio’s iTunes shuffle jumped from Massive Attack to Lo Fidelity Allstars. 

“Can you—”

“What’s the name—”

“What?”

“Sorry, what were you gonna say?”

“Can you turn the music down? Or off. I’m having trouble with this paper.” Merlin felt guilty. Sergio was here to keep him company. 

“Sure.” Sergio tapped some keys on his laptop and the room went quiet. Merlin could hear the traffic noises from Sixth Avenue, and his frayed nerves settled minutely. 

“What were you gonna ask me?”

“Oh. Your friend in the army, what’s his name?”

“Marines.”

“Yeah, him. I think he died.” Merlin went cold, his breath held in his chest. His brain blanked for a second and then stuttered over a pointless, superstitious thought. _Deaths come in threes_. And then, _Oh God, not Gwaine_. “John Archer, right? I’m reading a list of fatalities from the bombing in the northern provinces yesterday.”

Merlin hadn’t heard much beyond the name. John. Guilt from his relief softened into sadness as he exhaled. _Fuck, poor Will_. Merlin quickly checked his email to see if he had anything from Will. He was in Peru, enjoying a little freedom before graduate school. Maybe the news hadn’t reached him yet.

Merlin typed out a quick email, not wanting to be the bearer of bad news, but figuring Will’s father would’ve emailed him by now, at least. _I’m so sorry._

He’d written the same words to Arthur a few days ago after Morgana called to tell him of Uther’s passing. Merlin should be there now, in Wales, for the funeral, but he had finals. Hunith had gone for both of them. 

“You okay, Merl?” 

Merlin nodded absently, then shook his head. “Fuck, sorry. I thought you meant Gwaine. John is Will’s brother.”

“Yeah, him. Didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“It’s bad enough.”

“Too much death, man.”

Merlin admired the way Sergio stayed on top of the news, counting the deaths and reading the names. He was a bit like Arthur in that way, not willing to avert his eyes as most people did. As Merlin did. Merlin lived in constant fear for Gwaine, but it made him want to bury his head in the sand. 

They were silent and Merlin contemplated abandoning his term paper for a few hours. It was due in two days. He was totally screwed. 

“Want me to get us some food? You haven’t had an actual meal in a week,” Sergio reminded him. 

He wasn’t hungry. Merlin shook his head and looked at the bare branches outside his dorm window, stark against the darkening sky. There were very few places on earth he’d rather be than on his block alongside Washington Square Park, but right now he felt an ocean away from where he belonged. “Thanks, Serg. You go,” he said, not wanting to sound ungrateful. He and Sergio had broken up more than six months ago, and he knew he didn’t deserve Sergio’s continuing friendship. Maybe Sergio had come to see they worked better as friends, too. “I’m not hungry.”

“You sure?” Sergio stood and stretched, closing his laptop. He was tall, a good two inches taller than Merlin. His hair was a couple shades lighter than Merlin’s, his skin olive from his Portuguese mother. He was a big man, in better shape than Merlin but softer around the edges. “I’m happy to bring something back.”

“Nah, it’s okay. I’ve got some stuff.” Sergio was fully aware that “stuff” meant ramen. It was a testament to the current state of their friendship that he didn’t call Merlin on it. When they were dating, Sergio had ridden him constantly about his diet. 

Finally alone, Merlin looked at his alarm clock and counted five hours ahead. It wasn’t yet ten o’clock in Cardiff. He punched through the contacts on his mobile and then picked up the landline to dial. 

“ _Merlin?_ ”

Arthur’s voice startled him, even though he’d dialled the number. What an arsehole thing to do, he thought, calling Arthur about John when he was grieving the loss of his father.

“Hey, sorry. Is it late?”

“Not too late. It’s good to hear your voice.”

They mostly communicated by email these days. He’d seen Arthur only three times since that summer, short visits filled with family and friends and no time alone.

“I’m sorry I’m not there. I should be there.”

Arthur was quiet for a moment. “You need to finish your exams.” 

Everything had changed after September 11. Everything and nothing. Any strain between Merlin and Arthur over the events of that summer went up in smoke with the World Trade Center, and even though they’d seen almost nothing of each other since, they’d stayed close. At least Merlin felt they had. It was always easy when they talked, and they wrote often. On some level, Merlin knew they’d probably both changed. There was a lot they didn’t know about each other’s lives. But his feelings hadn’t changed. 

Along with the strain went any denial Merlin had about what Arthur was to him. He could spend the rest of his life working to simply love his cousin, but he would probably always be _in love_ with Arthur. It didn’t hurt, not from a distance. He’d come to a sort of peace with it. He’d never understand what compelled Arthur to want him in those brief moments he had, but whatever it was, it would have to do. 

“Arthur?”

“Yeah, sorry. …I’m thinking of leaving with Auntie, coming to New York for the holidays.” Merlin sighed and felt something ease in him. That’s why he was calling. He needed to see Arthur. “Is that okay?”

“That would be great. How much time can you take?”

“Classes are out until mid-January. Next semester is mostly independent study anyway. Maybe I could stay through January.” 

Arthur was doing a graduate degree at the London School of Economics. Merlin was in his second year of a PhD program in chemistry at Harvard, after finishing undergrad at MIT in three years. Merlin had met Sergio during his last year at MIT. Away at school, for the first time in his life, he’d ceased to feel like an outsider. No longer the foreigner, too young, too cerebral. Too gay. None of it mattered anymore. He was comfortable in his own skin. Sergio reminded him of Arthur in the way he looked at the world’s problems as his responsibility to fix. It was almost like having it all. Almost. 

He’d managed to convince his advisor at Harvard to let him transfer in a semester of courses from NYU, something he’d arranged last winter when he and Sergio were still together, doing the long-distance thing. He thought they needed some time in the same city, and he missed New York. But he and Sergio had already broken up before Merlin finished his first year at Harvard. 

“I’ll have plenty of time once finals are over next week.”

“Did you have plans? For the holidays?”

Merlin wondered whether Will would come home. “Nothing much. Just time with Mum. It’d be great to have you.”

“Good. Good, then I’ll come.”

“What about Morgana?”

“I’ll try to convince her to come, but I have a feeling she has plans she didn’t want to admit to. I think she’ll be relieved not to have to stay here on my account.”

Merlin had twisted the phone cord around his hand and it started to pinch. He unwound it and heard his stomach rumble. “How are you holding up? Both of you?”

“Oh, you know.” Merlin wished he could see Arthur’s eyes. “It’ll be really good to see you.”

~o~O~o~

An hour before Merlin’s last exam he found himself killing time at the Grey Dog. There were some familiar faces, and the guy behind the counter was a shameless flirt. Merlin’s phone buzzed as he carried his coffee back to his table. He sat and wiggled his mobile out of his jeans’ pocket. A text from Arthur.

 _Just landed. Auntie is knackered. U free 2nite?_

Merlin was exhausted from cramming and the all-nighter he’d pulled to finish his paper. He wasn’t much of a writer. 

_Sure. Last exam ends at 5. Come to the city, we’ll go out._

Merlin sipped at his too-hot coffee and stared at his phone until it buzzed in his hand. 

_Be there at 6._

Merlin texted his address and tapped his foot, trying not to think past his exam.

~o~O~o~

Merlin had always worked fast. He was the first to finish the exam and had to force himself to check his work rather than run back to his dorm. When he hit the street, the first blast of winter cut through his thin pea coat. He turned up his collar and hunched into the wool as he chose a path through Washington Square Park to get to his dorm. A busker set up by the dry fountain reminded him of the day he and Arthur had first visited Washington Square Park together. There’d been a group of teenagers performing acrobatics to hip hop for a large crowd, and Arthur had elbowed a path to the front for himself and Merlin. They’d been so young.

At his dorm, Merlin did his best to clean up the fallout from finals week, and tidy his bed. The graduate dorm rooms had full size beds instead of singles. He hadn’t thought beyond Arthur’s arrival, but as he pulled the duvet straight on top of the bed he wondered whether Arthur was planning to stay. They could easily go back to Brooklyn tonight, but Merlin hadn’t packed and he had to be out of the dorm before Christmas. 

At a quarter to six, he ran down the hall for a quick shower and rushed into a pair of black jeans and one of the only shirts he owned suitable for going out: fitted cotton, hunter green, with three buttons that came to his sternum. He unbuttoned the top button and fussed with his hair in the mirror on the back of his wardrobe door. Dark circles under his eyes spoke to the week he’d had. 

By six thirty, the buzz of energy had drained. No word from Arthur. He kicked off his boots and swung his legs up onto the bed, crossing his hands over his stomach. He’d just close his eyes.

Merlin rubbed his nose with the back of his hand and his brain tripped over the swirl of images he’d conjured in his dreams: chemical equations; panic over an exam written in a language he’d never seen before; a frantic search through Manhattan, unsure what he was looking for until he spotted Arthur’s profile across the hood of a cab on Broadway. The cab inched ahead in traffic and Arthur disappeared behind it. Merlin woke with a gasp, his hand at his face.

When he opened his eyes, there was a sliver of light from the hall and a figure standing over him. 

“Arthur?”

Arthur sat at the edge of the bed and laid his hand in the centre of Merlin’s chest. The warm pressure of it settled Merlin. “Hey, mate. Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

“S’kay. How’d you—”

“The door was open. You were having a bad dream and I was afraid to wake you.”

Merlin pushed himself up into a sitting position and ran his fingers through his hair. “Shit.”

“You okay?”

Merlin couldn’t remember the specific images that shook him out of sleep, but a familiar panic that had only dulled with the years was still skidding through his veins. “Yeah. I, uh. I dream about it, sometimes. September 11.”

Arthur shifted on the bed, pulled a knee up and nudged into Merlin’s thigh. “Me too.”

“I couldn’t find you.” He reached over and turned on the lamp by his bed, squinting at the light. He took Arthur in as his eyes adjusted. It had been so long. Arthur’s jaw had lost its youthful softness, every line of his face sharp and purposeful. He and Merlin found each other’s gaze, and Merlin watched Arthur’s black pupils widen as his eyes also adjusted to the light. 

“You did find me.”

Merlin blew air out through pursed lips, his heart rate evening out. “Yeah. Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay. It’s good to see you.” Arthur ran his hand up Merlin’s shoulder and squeezed, and then stood to close the door to the cramped room. “What’s on for the night?”

Merlin looked at his alarm clock and saw that it was already seven thirty. “It’s late.”

“Yeah, sorry. I fell asleep when we got to Auntie’s. The good news is I’ve got some energy now.”

“You wanna go out?”

Arthur flopped into Merlin’s desk chair and grinned. “I wanna go dancing, cuz. I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”

Merlin smiled. It wasn’t his first choice of post-exam activity, but it would be fun. “It’s too early. How about dinner first?”

Arthur was in faded jeans and a wool jumper, his parka slung over a small duffel bag he’d dropped inside Merlin’s door. Merlin forced himself not to stare, and straightened his clothes, checking the damage he’d done to his hair by falling asleep on it damp. It was short enough that the disarray was passable. 

“You’re so…” Arthur trailed off as he followed Merlin’s movement from the mirror to the wardrobe to fetch his coat.

“What?” Merlin pulled his pea coat out and then went back to his chest of drawers for a jumper.

“A man. You’re a man now.”

Merlin shrugged. “I guess.” The words sounded more paternal than Merlin liked.

“You look great.” 

Merlin smiled and slipped on a black turtleneck before putting his coat on. “Let’s go.”

Merlin took Arthur to his favourite Japanese restaurant on LaGuardia Place. They walked close, shoulders almost touching, curled in against the frigid wind. It was a Wednesday, five nights before Christmas, and the campus was relatively quiet. They got seated right away, a tight table for two, and Arthur said he remembered the place. “I miss New York.”

“I missed it too. I had to beg my advisor to let me spend the semester here.”

They had their menus under their elbows but were in no hurry. Merlin knew he should be hungry, but his stomach was dancing in a way it hadn’t in many years. 

Arthur glanced away from Merlin and sank into his chair. “Auntie said you’d come back for a boyfriend.” Even to Merlin’s ears, Arthur’s interest sounded less casual than he looked. As often as he and Arthur wrote, neither of them ever mentioned their romantic life. 

“Sort of. We broke up before I ever got back to New York. But he was part of the motivation.”

Arthur nodded and regarded Merlin, his expression unreadable. Merlin sighed and scolded himself. The question on his tongue needed answering, for his own peace. 

“And you? You seeing anyone? Whenever I talk to Morgana she mentions your whoring ways.” Merlin’s voice was steady, but the thought of Arthur sleeping around bothered him more than he wanted to admit. Morgana told him that Arthur had become an equal opportunity slut, men and women. Merlin wondered if it had started that August that he’d lived with them in Brooklyn. He remembered all those nights out that Arthur never explained.

Arthur grimaced. Merlin expected him to brush it off, but his back stiffened noticeably and he waved his hand. “Morgana exaggerates a bit. But, no, I’m not seeing anyone special.” 

Of course, Arthur had been dealing with an ailing father the past year, after years of unexpected remission. “How’re you doing? It must’ve been hard. I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to come for the funeral.”

Arthur nodded and watched Merlin’s eyes again. “I’m okay. We had more time with him than we expected. I’ll be okay.”

Merlin wondered whether Uther had figured out a way to let Arthur in during his last years. He should know that. He should have visited, should have called Arthur more often. 

“Were you able to keep up with school?”

Arthur nodded. “Mostly. I’m writing a dissertation proposal now. I finished most of my coursework last year.”

“Can I take your order?”

Merlin glanced up at the waiter, a young white kid who Merlin recognised from campus, dressed in uniform black, red hair out of place in the otherwise family-run business. 

Arthur pulled his menu off the table and gave an apologetic smile. “I think we need another minute.”

Merlin had the menu memorised and found himself watching his cousin instead.

~o~O~o~

Time stretched out around them the way Merlin remembered from years before, calm like the eye of a storm, exhilarating in the way the air around them spun. Merlin’s stomach unclenched with alcohol and sashimi, and he felt himself glowing in the warmth of Arthur’s easy conversation.

Arthur had seen Gwaine more recently than he had, and Merlin bent nearer to hear the story. Gwaine had been stop-lossed, and was fighting in Iraq. His emails had grown fewer over the years, and Merlin sometimes wondered how much of his friend—the young man he’d known five years earlier—was left. 

Gwaine had gone to London on leave not much more than a year earlier, and Arthur had met him there with some of his mates. “You’ll get a kick out of this I think.” Arthur’s tone sounded mildly strained. Merlin raised his eyebrows. “Remember my friend, Percy?”

“Yeah. The big one.”

“Even bigger than you probably remember. So, he and Gwaine hooked up.” 

Merlin gaped and smiled. “No way.”

Arthur nodded and took a swig of beer, eyeing Merlin carefully. 

“Did you know? I mean, about Percy?”

Arthur shrugged a little. “Sort of. He knew about me, and I’d had a feeling from his reaction the first time I told him that he wasn’t shocked enough to be totally straight.”

“Well, that’s…I’m glad, I think. Is it serious?”

Arthur’s posture relaxed. “I thought you might be jealous. It’s kind of serious. I mean, as serious as possible with Gwaine in Iraq.”

Merlin let that sink in. It’d been a long time since he’d thought about Gwaine romantically. Even in those brief weeks when he had, Arthur had overshadowed those feelings. In the years since, it hadn’t been Gwaine he’d pined for. He’d had boyfriends, but in his darker moments, when it felt like nothing would ever quite click for him, it wasn’t Gwaine his mind went to.

Merlin shook his head. “Nah. That was a long time ago. That’s great. I’m glad he has someone.”

~o~O~o~

It was after ten when they left the restaurant, a few beers heavier and lighter at the same time. The alcohol dulled the cold, and they decided to walk up to Splash, a gay club a little east of Chelsea. Merlin had offered to take him to Webster Hall, thinking it might be more Arthur’s scene, but Arthur said it was too touristy and wanted to go wherever Merlin liked. It was early for clubbing, but the doors would be opening and they were more interested in dancing than they were in a crowd. This time they leaned into each other as they made their way up Fifth Avenue and Arthur listened more than he talked, wanted to know about Merlin’s research into biofuels, his friends, his travels. It felt different than five years ago, and Merlin wondered if that was because he’d grown up and finally had his own life to share, or if Arthur had been the one to grow up.

In the vestibule of the club, they shed their coats and jumpers, and Merlin felt Arthur’s eyes on him as he pulled his turtleneck over his head. Coat check ticket in his pocket, Merlin headed straight for the bar. 

Arthur caught him by the elbow before he could get there and dragged him onto the mostly empty dance floor. It was a weeknight. Contemporary techno was replaced with an eighties soundtrack, and Merlin felt his body caught in the pull of _Let’s Hear it for the Boy_ thudding through the floor-to-ceiling speakers. Arthur started bopping, not ungracefully, but not with the fluid movement of a seasoned club boy either. Merlin hadn’t expected it, thought Arthur would be a cling-to-the-bar kind of guy, at least wait for a crowd. But Arthur plunged in, held Merlin’s hand, bobbed when the beat bobbed, and gave Merlin just the right kind of attention that he could lose himself and start to move. 

Prince took up where Deniece Williams left off and Merlin’s eyes slipped closed, the music sending him somewhere else. Arthur’s voice at his ear startled him. “You can move.” Merlin turned his head and found Arthur close, his mouth hanging at Merlin’s cheek. Something warm went down Merlin’s spine and his stomach fluttered. He moved an inch away from Arthur, not trusting his body. Arthur had always been a flirt, and Merlin had to believe that Arthur thought little if anything about what had happened between them that summer. 

“I’m gonna get a drink,” Merlin said, barely audible over the music, pointing to the bar. Arthur followed a few steps behind, winding through the sparse crowd that was growing thicker as it got closer to midnight. It was still too early to lose yourself, but the dark red lights and thump of the bass helped.

Merlin recognised the bartender, a broad shouldered man with dark eyes and a hint of a Mexican accent who’d flirted with him the last time he was here with Sergio. He was handsome and seemed sweet, the kind of guy Merlin thought it would be healthy to fall for. “I had a feeling this was gonna be a good night.” He winked at Merlin as he reached the bar.

Merlin cocked his head shyly and smiled. “Hey. How are you?”

“Can’t complain. What can I get you?” 

“This one’s on me,” Arthur said, appearing at Merlin’s elbow. 

The bartender’s smile didn’t falter, but the softness in his eyes faded. He looked from Arthur back to Merlin. “Is this your—?”

“This is my—” Merlin broke in before the bartender could finish his question, but Arthur cut in with his own introduction.

“Arthur. I’m his Arthur.” He reached his hand across and gave the bartender a firm shake. Merlin’s grasp on what had just happened wasn’t as firm as it should be. 

“Nice to meet you, Merlin’s Arthur.” The bartender gave a wry smile. “What’ll it be, you two?”

“What d’you have on tap?”

 

Once they had their beers, Arthur steered Merlin to a booth alongside the dance floor, and Merlin gave a sheepish wave to the bartender. 

Arthur crowded him into the back of the booth and slung his arm over the ledge behind Merlin’s head. The blue of his eyes was obscured in the dark, but Merlin felt their focus on him. Arthur’s attention was heady and disorienting, and Merlin scanned the crowd for something to distract himself from it. There was nothing of December in the heat Arthur’s body threw against his side, sending Merlin’s pulse skittering up his throat and down through his limbs. “That bartender likes you,” Arthur spoke into Merlin’s ear, just loud enough to be heard over the boom from the speakers.

Merlin grimaced. He didn’t care about the bartender, couldn’t even remember his name. 

Arthur watched him closely. “God, sorry, Merlin.” Arthur pulled his arm away and bent his head, burying his eyes into cupped palms. “I’m such a jealous arsehole. I’m sorry.”

The words barely registered with Merlin before they’d pulled him back to his bedroom in Brooklyn and sent a jolt of reckless teen lust into his gut, like he needed a reminder of what it had felt like to be with Arthur that night. Arthur turned his head, clasped fists against his temple, and bit at the corner of his bottom lip. Merlin’s sight fuzzed at the image for a moment before he recalled himself and met Arthur’s gaze. “You’re not, Arthur.”

Arthur sniffed. “It’s okay to admit it, Merlin. I always thought it was part of my charm, but I think I’m ready to outgrow it.”

The words hurt Merlin, somehow. He’d heard other people call Arthur an arse, but it didn’t describe the person he knew. “I’ve never thought of you that way.”

“I know.” Arthur lifted his head and dropped his forearms to the table, nodded and chewed the inside of his cheek. “Somewhere along the way I think I started trying harder for you.” Arthur looked up for his reaction to the words, and Merlin sucked in air over a startled pause. Arthur’s eyes moved over his face. “Let’s dance.”

Merlin looked down at his beer, which he’d barely touched, and Arthur tugged at his hand. “Leave it.”

They threaded their way onto the dance floor, Arthur leading with fingers interlaced through his. Merlin tried to process what was happening—the meaning of Arthur’s words and the insinuations in his tone—but his thoughts bordered on frantic and he couldn’t hold onto any of them. Instead he let Arthur blot out all forward and backward thinking with the press of his hips into Merlin’s as New Order urged them into motion. The crowd was mostly men, mostly young, some in groups and some in couples, everyone swinging and grinding. No one gave them a second look as Arthur wrapped himself around Merlin and turned the dance into a fast-paced seduction. Merlin let his eyes flutter open and shut as the strobe light and stuttered beat of _Blue Monday_ took a final whack at coherent thought. 

There was only Arthur, the tantalizing thrust of his groin into Merlin’s that had Merlin hard in seconds. He felt Arthur’s length firm on the inside of his thigh, and then, with an arm slung over Merlin’s shoulder, Arthur’s teeth nipping under Merlin’s jaw, at his neck behind his ear, a tongue making its way to Merlin’s mouth. Merlin shivered, hot, and turned his face to Arthur’s, meeting his lips. He hovered for a split second, registered the lust-blown look in Arthur’s eyes that matched what had taken over his own body, before Arthur crushed his lips to Merlin’s. 

Arthur pulled at the back of Merlin’s head, held him tight, and bent Merlin back to get some height on him while his hips continued to move below at half time to the music. Then slower, and slower, until they were standing in the middle of the dance floor, eyes closed, bodies in thrall to each other, breath harsh between long, deep kisses. Arthur’s tongue licked along Merlin’s bottom lip, skimmed his teeth, and found Merlin’s, the wet heat of mouth prickling Merlin’s scalp and promising so much more.

Merlin didn’t notice when the song ended and something slower picked up, but he felt Arthur leading him in small swaying steps. They kissed and breathed into each other’s necks. Merlin felt the pull of Arthur so strongly he didn’t have the smallest resistance in him. He tried to remember why he’d ever resisted, why he’d thought this was wrong, but he couldn’t think. The smell of Arthur’s skin, something round and full and edged with the tang of sweat, pulled him back to his childhood. It wasn’t the same scent, not exactly. It was manly now, grown, but it was Arthur, and instead of scaring Merlin away from thoughts of incest, it pulled him to the familiar, into the man who had been his gravity from earliest memory.

Arthur tongued his earlobe and nipped the shell of his ear. “Are you drunk?” 

Merlin shook his head and swallowed a groan at the pleasure of Arthur’s mouth there. 

“Good.” Arthur leaned back slightly and ran a finger across Merlin’s forehead. “Can we go?”

Merlin nodded and took Arthur’s hand, leading him off the dance floor. They passed the bar on the way out, and Merlin thought about the fact that Arthur hadn’t let him introduce him as his cousin. The bartender winked at Merlin as they breezed past to the coat check.

On the street, Arthur stepped out on the avenue and hailed a cab before Merlin had buttoned his coat. Merlin piled in after him and Arthur wrapped his hand over Merlin’s thigh, thumb grazing the inseam of his jeans as he directed the driver to Merlin’s dorm. 

Wasn’t he drunk? He felt like he must be, to be doing this reckless thing. And there was no question about what he was doing. But the buzz of alcohol was gone, replaced with lust so strong it could only be the release of a floodgate. It was nothing like the burst of new lust, and nothing like the kind that buzzes through you after a few beers and the promise of a random hook-up. It was deeper, like a tide pulling him under with nothing to hold onto, almost no sense of which way was up. Everything tethered to the points where Arthur touched him, high on the inside of his thigh and from hip to shoulder, the whisper of Arthur’s breath at his cheek. “You feel that?” Arthur asked, and Merlin wondered whether he’d said something out loud.

But his throat was raw and all he could do was nod and whisper, “Yes.” 

Arthur squeezed his thigh and exhaled deep into Merlin’s neck. “Fuck, Merlin.”

Arthur paid the driver and scooted out of the cab, still pressed to Merlin’s side. It took all of Merlin’s will to let go of Arthur’s hand long enough to fish out his wallet and show his ID to the security guard, who knew him well but was a stickler for the rules. He nodded them in and Arthur tugged at Merlin’s sleeve as they stood for the lift. Merlin looked up and Arthur caught his eyes, held them with a knowing look that reached inside his chest like a fisted hand, punching the air out of his lungs. 

Arthur hadn’t taken his eyes from Merlin. He pulled Merlin into the empty lift before Merlin could make his feet move. The door shut behind them and Merlin hit the button for his floor just before Arthur pinned Merlin’s shoulders to the wall and pressed himself from chest to knees against him, burrowing with hot breath behind Merlin’s ear. Merlin’s eyes slipped shut and he had to fight to think past the rush of blood and weight of Arthur on him. “Arthur.” He spoke softly into Arthur’s hair.

Arthur didn’t speak. He used the press of his body to answer Merlin, and the hard length of him made desire crawl up from Merlin’s gut into his throat. “Arthur, our floor.”

He shoved at Arthur, and they tumbled into the hall. Merlin wrapped his fingers around Arthur’s wrist, strong bones, soft, warm skin, and brought him the length of the hall to his door. 

Arthur pressed himself against Merlin’s back as Merlin keyed the lock, and they fell into the room together. A streetlight illuminated enough of Merlin’s room that they found their way to the bed without stumbling. Arthur had peeled off Merlin’s coat before they were halfway across the small floor-space, and got his own coat to the floor, toeing off his boots while Merlin did the same. 

It felt like they were running a race, both of them afraid that slowing down could derail what was happening. Whatever doubts Merlin had about the wisdom of this decision, however at a loss he was to explain Arthur’s motivation, there was no question they wanted the same thing in this moment. 

Arthur caught him around the waist as Merlin pulled his turtleneck over his head, and he could feel the pace of Arthur slow. Arthur’s hands wrapped around Merlin’s flanks and slid up his ribcage, under his shirt, fingers trembling on Merlin’s skin. Arthur’s breath was ragged, and Merlin was dizzy himself, chest heaving. Electric pleasure bloomed under Arthur’s fingers, lighting him up from the surface inward until his blood felt molten. Arthur tongued up his neck and sucked at the sensitive skin behind his ear, biting lightly at the lobe in a way that said he had already learned how to drive Merlin crazy. Arthur pulled him in tight, pressing a thigh between Merlin’s legs and sliding it for friction just before he caught Merlin’s mouth with his own. 

Merlin’s breath snagged in his throat as the press of Arthur’s lips and Arthur’s searching hands opened Merlin wide to his cousin. He was hot and spinning from arousal, and more. He knew what it was in the way you know something without words, the way your body knows something from crown to toes, deep in the bones. He ached in his jeans, but also in his chest, as Arthur laid him open with a demanding mouth and a touch that was becoming firmer, more confident. 

Merlin pulled Arthur down to the bed over him, got his own shirt over his head, and then grappled with Arthur’s jumper and T-shirt until they were chest to chest and Merlin could hum into the beautiful, pink aureola around Arthur’s taut nipple. Arthur groaned when Merlin took his tongue to the hardened skin. The taste and feel of Arthur over him made him writhe, lift his hips and curl under Arthur so he could rub himself along Arthur’s strong thigh while he sucked at Arthur. 

“Fuck,” Arthur whispered, holding Merlin’s head between strong hands and pressing himself down into Merlin’s crotch so that Merlin could feel the heat of Arthur’s cock through his jeans. 

Merlin worked Arthur’s button-fly open and tugged his jeans and pants down below his hips while he pulled moans from Arthur with his mouth on Arthur’s chest. “Merlin,” Arthur breathed above him, a plea, punctuated by the arch of Arthur’s spine that jabbed the head of his cock into Merlin’s gut. Merlin nipped at the sensitive nipple and pulled off, looking down through the dim space between them to see the dark outline of Arthur’s thick cock. He’d never seen it, but he had a visceral memory of the feel of it in his hand and reached, almost unbelieving that he had this chance again. 

Arthur watched him as he wrapped his hand around the length and Merlin sucked in air, stroked, looked up to see Arthur’s eyes slip shut. “ _Merlin?_ ” Arthur choked as Merlin slid a hard thumb along the underside vein, pulled foreskin down, and ran his thumb over the wet slit, swirling over the head. “Merlin,” he breathed.

“Tell me what you want.” His own voice came out low, rough. He was straining in his jeans and desperate to get more of Arthur.

“I want—” Arthur stopped. His eyes opened and he ran his broad palm over Merlin’s cheek, slid his hand around Merlin’s nape, tender strokes that unhinged Merlin. Arthur’s brows knit together and he held Merlin’s gaze, trying to telegraph something Merlin was too lust-addled to understand. He leaned closer and spoke into Merlin’s ear, breath tickling the skin. “I want you inside me.”

Merlin’s whole body responded to the unexpected words. His hips thrust up in anticipation and before he could form a thought he was back in movement, pulling his jeans and pants down, struggling to help Arthur kick his own off his ankles. Arthur laughed breathily as they tumbled over each other in bed until they sat facing each other, naked. Merlin’s memory flitted to their summer in Brooklyn, and back, to childhood, searching for some moment when they’d been like this together, coming up empty. This was new, a first for them both. 

He took in the whole of Arthur, the strong, generous lines, solid muscle, skin faintly glowing in the light from the street, and marvelled at the way the beautiful boy had grown into this man. Merlin was tempted to turn on his light to see better, but Arthur leaned in and distracted him with a warm kiss and the grip of his hand at Merlin’s hip. “You’re beautiful,” Arthur spoke into his mouth, saying out loud the words at the back of Merlin’s throat. Arthur’s lips played Merlin’s teasingly, expertly, opening and coaxing Merlin in deeper with the light lick of tongue that Merlin had to chase to get more of. It wasn’t the kind of kiss that’s merely a bridge to something else, but the destination, the place you get lost. 

Merlin felt Arthur’s mouth on his in every cell of his body and his heart banged in his chest as their breathing sped together. He wanted more. He wanted it all. But this was also enough, and he thought about that first night after September 11, when he and Arthur had kissed each other to sleep. There was then, and was still a soul-deep bond in the meeting of their mouths that Merlin was afraid to dwell on.

When Merlin had finally blacked out everything but the feel of Arthur’s lips on his, Arthur’s hand slid around his hip and over his abdomen, down, until Arthur had Merlin’s hard cock in a tight grip. Merlin’s head sagged and he grunted into Arthur’s shoulder, the pressure and long, torturously slow stroke pulling his balls up tight so he thought he might come before they’d even started.

“Fuck, Arthur. Wait.” He covered Arthur’s hand on his cock with his own, stilling him. He needed to calm down.

Arthur slid around Merlin in the bed, coming up chest to back, wrapping his arm around Merlin’s chest from behind. He held Merlin’s cock tight at the base and cradled Merlin’s knuckles between his own, kissing the back of Merlin’s head and flicking Merlin’s nipple lightly with his thumb. “I’ve _been_ waiting,” Arthur said into the roll of Merlin’s shoulder, resting his forehead there.

Merlin didn’t have the courage to interrogate the words, but loosened his grip on Arthur’s hand, let him begin to stroke, slow, fast, fast. Merlin felt the pleasure knocking at his nerves, up and down his legs and hot in his groin. He wanted to give Arthur everything but couldn’t imagine holding out much longer. “Let go,” Arthur said, reading his mind, his body.

“You wanted…”

“There’s plenty of time. Come for me.” As Arthur spoke, he made the perfect tunnel with his fingers and nudged Merlin from behind until Merlin was fucking into his hand frantically, small, quick thrusts, hard, panting. Arthur’s hand was wet from the tip of Merlin’s cock, the blunt head of Arthur’s cock pressing into the small of his back, and Merlin felt all of it gathering like a wave, pleasure building and tangling with emotions so big he knew it would swamp him when it hit. He opened his eyes then and looked down at Arthur’s hand on him. The sight of his own cock dark in Arthur’s grip sent his thoughts capering, and he thrust harder, distantly aware of the moans escaping from deep in his chest. 

“So hot,” Arthur grunted out, and Merlin felt Arthur’s cock wet and poking him without rhythm, seeking its own friction as Arthur tightened his grip and started stroking against Merlin’s thrusts. 

“Oh, God,” Merlin shuddered, feeling the edge of it begin to peak, and he rode the top of it for long stretching moments, an eternity of pleasure in that suspended high. He made strangled sounds as he clung to the orgasm ripping through his body, nerves singing with it, and then finally crested and came over the sheets and his own legs, shaking in Arthur’s embrace.

Arthur held him as he trembled through it, stroked him through the aftershocks and then slowly loosened his grip. Arthur kissed his neck, his shoulder, whispering encouragement as Merlin floated back into his body, back into the solidity of Arthur behind him.

“So good, Arthur,” he breathed, and Arthur hugged him tighter.

Merlin twisted in the tight circle of Arthur’s arms and brushed his lips over Arthur’s, nipped at the corner of Arthur’s mouth and tasted sweat. Arthur let him play passively for a moment and then stretched out on his back on the bed, pulling Merlin over him. Merlin settled on Arthur’s hips and kissed him deeply before sitting up and shifting back over Arthur’s thighs. He was startled as he took Arthur in hand again, how easy this felt. He realised he’d been waiting for the moment when one of them would freak out about what they were doing, but it wasn’t coming. He knew that now, and enjoyed the appreciative groans coming from Arthur as he slipped a second hand down to roll Arthur’s balls with his fingers, nudging Arthur’s legs further apart. 

“Fucking hell,” Arthur said through gritted teeth, lids heavy but eyes still appraising Merlin as Merlin worked his fingers to Arthur’s taint. Arthur wriggled and Merlin stroked him in a tight fist, pulling a deep moan from him. Arthur tried to move, to thrust, but was pinned by Merlin’s weight. “Please,” he whispered, nudging Merlin’s arse with his knees. 

Merlin teased, leaned over Arthur and put his hands and weight into Arthur’s shoulders. Arthur struggled half-heartedly, smiled at him, and leaned up for a kiss that Merlin ducked away from. Merlin was already hardening again, fast even for him. Arthur threw his head back on the pillow and huffed. 

“Awww,” Merlin whined.

“Are you mocking my need?” Arthur lifted an eyebrow and heaved, half-heartedly trying to buck Merlin off. Merlin knew Arthur could have him on his back in a second if he wished it, and enjoyed the feeling of Arthur wriggling under him. 

Arthur stilled then, and licked his bottom lip as he looked up the length of Merlin’s body over him.

“No, not mocking.” Merlin shook his head, letting the smile drop. “I want to help you with that.”

Arthur’s expression shifted, eyes dark and mouth in a tight bow. “I need you, Merlin,” he said, dead serious.

Merlin nodded and lifted up off Arthur’s legs, knelt between them, and coaxed Arthur to bend his knees. He reached over Arthur to retrieve the lube from the bedside table and slipped a slick finger between Arthur’s legs, rubbing at the tight furl of skin until Arthur pushed at him. Arthur let out a gust of air when Merlin finally pushed in, and Merlin watched his chest rise and fall as his fingers went into that impossible heat. He knew his own body well and pushed in deeper, hoping to make it good for Arthur. He curled his finger at the angle that worked for him and pressed, rubbed, until Arthur’s breath caught and his head thrashed to the side. “ _Oh my God_ ,” he choked out.

“Good?” Merlin asked, knowing how insane that sensation made him.

“I’ve never—” Arthur broke off with a shaky moan as Merlin stroked him from the inside and then leaned down to take the head of Arthur’s cock into his mouth. “ _Merlin_.”

Merlin could taste the wet salt on Arthur’s cock and licked around the rim of his foreskin before swallowing him deep into the back of his throat. Arthur thrust up and moaned shamelessly as he rocked back down onto Merlin’s finger. Merlin loved this, loved ravaging someone with fingers and mouth, pulling a man apart from the inside and the suck of his cock. To have Arthur under him like this made his head spin, and he was fully hard again by the time he got a second finger inside Arthur. 

Arthur’s hand tangled in Merlin’s hair and Merlin fucked Arthur open with his fingers, sucked him hard and fast until Arthur was trembling under him and shoving at Merlin’s head in warning. Merlin pulled off slowly and slid his fingers out, playing the sensitive skin of Arthur’s inner thigh. 

“Incredible, Merlin,” Arthur said huskily. “You’re fucking incredible.” Arthur took in a deep breath and blew it out through his mouth, fighting for control. “Do you have a condom?”

Merlin nodded toward the bedside table, still soothing the skin where Arthur’s leg met his gorgeous arse. Arthur flung his arm out to fish around blindly in the drawer Merlin had left open. He located a foil packed and pitched it at Merlin’s chest.

When Merlin was wrapped up and slicked up, he shoved at Arthur’s thigh, hoping Arthur’d let him lie behind. He was getting the sense that Arthur didn’t bottom often, and he wanted to make it good for him. Arthur rolled easily onto his side and hitched his knee up toward his chest, opening himself for Merlin.

“Go slow,” he said, and Merlin murmured assurance into Arthur’s shoulder as he stretched out along Arthur’s back. _This is Arthur,_ was his only thought as he pressed through the tight ring of muscle that gave to let him in. He went slow and felt Arthur tensing under his hands, against his chest.

“You okay?”

Arthur nodded and grunted, and Merlin fought to keep from thrusting into that tight space. He soothed Arthur with a hand on the planes of his back and wondered that he was touching this same expanse of skin that’d driven him crazy so many years ago. He wondered at the guilt he’d felt, when all he felt now was gratitude. 

“More,” Arthur said simply, shifting back onto Merlin’s cock so that when Merlin finally thrust he slid in through the tight heat easily, his balls firm against Arthur’s buttocks. 

Merlin held his breath, overcome with the exquisite pressure, and the way his eyes burned with emotion, and then let it out against the warm skin at the back of Arthur’s neck. “ _Oooh,_ ” he gasped, and slid his hands down to grip at Arthur’s hips. 

“Fuck me,” Arthur begged, and the words sent Merlin’s body into action. He pulled back and thrust into Arthur slowly at first, and then sped, working to find the angle that would do to Arthur what his fingers had done. Arthur pushed back until they fell into a rhythm, and then Merlin shifted and hit home, dragging a low cry out of Arthur. A mangled version of Merlin’s name on his tongue as he writhed against Merlin, Arthur shoved back hard. Merlin fucked into that spot until he felt a tremor run through Arthur, and Merlin himself was nearly undone by it. He’d never felt anything like being inside Arthur. His limbs shook with pleasure as it organised itself through his body, gathering where his cock fucked in and out. He slid a hand around Arthur’s hip and wrapped his fingers around Arthur’s cock, hot and silky to the touch, ready to shoot. It took only a few strokes before Arthur stiffened and arched his back, coming over Merlin’s hand, his powerful body wrecked in Merlin’s arms. 

Merlin fucked him hard then, through his orgasm, seeking his own release. The intensity of it had him spinning in thin air, lightheaded, and then finally it broke and he went into free fall, coming hard all over again and losing his senses as he jerked inside Arthur.

Arthur clasped a hand over Merlin’s at his chest and the two of them clung to each other as they twitched and shivered back into their bodies and the wet, sticky mess of sheets. Merlin’s heart hammered in his chest and he felt Arthur’s knocking against his hand, lungs rising and falling through his back. They took deep breaths and Merlin felt his eyes prickling again.

“Oh my God, Merlin.” Arthur’s voice was thick. He sounded exhausted, and Merlin could feel the pull of sleep already himself. He fought to keep his eyes open as the tingling in his feet and his legs ebbed, but his bones were rubber and he sleepily wondered how bad it would be to fall asleep in the come-wet sheets with his softening cock cradled in Arthur’s arse. They lay like that until Merlin’s eyes had closed heavily and his breathing evened out.

Arthur moved though, eventually, slowly, disengaging from Merlin, and Merlin begrudgingly pulled out. He smoothed a hand down Arthur’s back before getting up to throw out the condom and grab a couple of towels off the hook at the back of the door. 

Arthur caught one of the towels and lazily wiped himself up, standing and tying the towel around his waist. “I need to wash.”

Merlin nodded, not wanting to leave the darkness, not wanting to leave this moment with Arthur. He was relaxed and sated, but he also felt himself grasping to hold onto something he knew wasn’t his to keep. He wrapped his own towel and sluggishly headed for the door. 

Arthur caught him with two hands around his waist from behind and stopped him before he got a hand on the doorknob. “C’mere,” Arthur said, and turned Merlin to face him. Merlin bit his lip as Arthur studied his face and ran a thumb across Merlin’s jaw. Arthur’s eyes went to Merlin’s lips, and a moment later he’d leaned in to kiss, gently now, gentler than before. It was a dry brush of lips, soft and promising, and even that brief touch twisted a knot in Merlin’s chest. He steadied himself with hands on Arthur’s shoulders and experienced a lurch of his stomach at the impossibility of this.

Arthur saw something in his expression and tipped Merlin’s chin up with a finger. “What is it?”

Merlin shook his head and swallowed the words, not ready to puncture the fantasy just yet. He forced a smile and headed for the hall with Arthur a step behind.

When they got back to the room, they climbed into bed naked and found the driest side of the already narrow bed. Merlin instantly remembered this, the way Arthur clung to him in sleep, and this time unreserved warmth coiled in his chest from the press of his cousin at his back. Even the notion that this was fleeting couldn’t spoil it for him. He found himself waiting for the steady pull of Arthur’s breaths before he finally let go of consciousness, holding thoughts of tomorrow at arm’s length.

~o~O~o~

Merlin woke suffused with heat, skin flushed and dry, as though the radiator had evaporated every drop of moisture from the room. Arthur was still firmly locked around him, his morning erection tucked under Merlin’s balls. The rise and fall of Arthur against his back and the play of his hands on Merlin’s chest told Merlin that he was awake. It was dim, barely dawn in December.

Merlin’s throat rumbled as he found his voice. “You jet lagged?” He twisted his neck to try to get a look at Arthur but could only see the rise of his bicep. It wasn’t the first question on his mind, but he wasn’t ready for answers to more.

Arthur nodded into Merlin’s shoulder, his lips pressed into Merlin’s skin, then shook his head. “Mmm. Maybe a bit. Mostly couldn’t sleep.”

Merlin squeezed his eyes shut, warding off what he expected to hear next. He tried to speak; nothing came out. He remembered the way Arthur’s regret had made him feel five years earlier. He’d been living with that since, and as much as he’d prepared himself the night before for this to be a fleeting moment, he wasn’t going to be able to listen to Arthur articulate regret a second time. Internal alarm bells rang and he fought to keep his body from betraying him through its tension.

“Hey, are you okay?” Arthur sounded concerned all of a sudden, not insensitive to Merlin’s silence, to the pounding of Merlin’s heart.

Merlin nodded this time, trying to get ahold of himself. “Fine.”

“Hey,” Arthur said, and pulled on Merlin’s shoulder to turn him until they were facing each other and Arthur had his fingers laced together in the small of Merlin’s back. “What’s up?”

Frustration flared in Merlin. How could there be any question about what was up? Hadn’t they been through this, years ago? Merlin’s reaction must have registered on his face because Arthur frowned, his cheeks hollowing out as he studied Merlin’s face. “You’re upset about this?” Arthur asked.

Merlin sighed heavily. “How can you…I just don’t get it.”

Arthur considered this. “Which part?”

“The part where you thought this was a horrible idea five years ago, and you’re wondering what I’m worried about now?” Merlin hated himself for not finding a better way, or a better time, to have this conversation. Arthur’s erection hadn’t noticeably flagged, and it grazed his own morning hardness, causing a fresh wave of lust to creep into his nerves. He felt out of control and disappointed in himself for it.

Arthur didn’t flinch from the words. Instead the circle of his arms got warmer, softer, and he pulled Merlin in tighter. “Who _ever_ said I thought it was a horrible idea five years ago?” 

Merlin pushed against Arthur then. His frustration turned to anger. With only an inch between them, he managed to get into an almost sitting position with one good shove. “Are you kidding?” Arthur looked at him seriously as if to say, no, not in the least. “ _You_ did, Arthur. Have you forgotten that we hardly spoke for more than a month? I’ll never understand why you let it happen in the first place, but you made it perfectly clear how you felt about it afterward.”

“I didn’t just let it happen. I made it happen.” 

Merlin opened his mouth to contradict, but shut it. It was true. It had been Arthur. “Why? I still don’t understand why.”

“I was attracted to you. I’m ashamed to admit, I didn’t sit around analysing it.” He twisted his mouth. “It just was.”

“But then why’d you freak out?”

Arthur’s jaw dropped slightly, and he bit back whatever was first on its way out of his mouth. “Do you remember what happened that night?”

Merlin nodded. No exertions in the past five years had done a thing to dim the memory.

“Do you remember that you cried?”

Shame crept red-blooded up his neck. “I was sixteen. My mum…I felt horrible.”

“Exactly. And I’d just selfishly taken what I wanted. Instead of making sure you were okay with it, I pushed you. And you _cried_ , Merlin, because you were young, or felt guilty, or both. I made you feel that. How could I not regret that?”

“Didn’t you feel guilty?” Merlin’s voice cracked, old emotions stirred by Arthur’s words.

Arthur sat up and ran a hand from the crook of Merlin’s neck, across his shoulder, and down his arm. “I was then. After. For doing that to you.”

“We’re cousins.”

“And I’d already lost my mother, Merlin. It…that part of it, it seemed like a thing to get around, like an annoying obstacle, for what people would think, but I never was guilty for how I felt about you. Not until I hurt you.”

Merlin tried to wrap his mind around what Arthur was telling him, tentatively reordering his understanding of the past. “Then after September 11?”

“It was different then, wasn’t it?”

“It was to me.” Merlin had fought hard to protect those days after from his residual pain about what had happened earlier that summer, to put it in its own place.

“I’ve never been so afraid in my life, Merlin. That whole day, thinking you’d been up there.” Arthur shook his head against the thought and let go of Merlin, running his fingers through bed-pressed hair. “Fuck, Merlin. I still can’t think about it…”

“I stopped feeling guilty, after that. About us, I mean.” Merlin needed Arthur to know that. Arthur looked up to meet Merlin’s gaze, eyes bright in the grey light, almost wet. Merlin steadied his hand and clasped it over Arthur’s knuckles where he was propped on the mattress. “I’ve never told anyone about us, but not because I think there’s anything wrong with—”

Arthur twisted his hand in Merlin’s so that their fingers were locked and grabbed Merlin by the nape with his other hand, angling their heads for a deep kiss, the kind of morning kiss that linked Merlin back to the arousal he woke with, or the pleasure he rode to sleep. In the slick of Arthur’s tongue and click of teeth, the shared stale breath that was sweet for what it was, Merlin lost the thread of his reservations. He sank into a place of acceptance with this for whatever it was, however short-lived it would be, and he let his body fall into Arthur’s.

Arthur got Merlin onto his back and ducked down to suck kisses into the skin over Merlin’s collarbone, over his chest, and took Merlin’s nipple under his tongue. Merlin arched off the bed from the almost painfully arousing sensation. Arthur hummed into the nipple and sucked, teased, while his hands went everywhere, mapping Merlin’s skin with his palm and a play of tender, eager fingers. They were less frenzied than the night before, but Merlin felt the same tipping of the world upside down, like he couldn’t hold onto anything but this connection with Arthur, desire eclipsing any rational thought.

Arthur pinned his hips, fingers curling over bone, when Merlin started mindlessly thrusting. He was desperate for friction but Arthur held him fast, leaning up and watching Merlin’s cock in the brightening light. Merlin tried to keep his eyes open, but the sight of Arthur reared up over him had him swallowing over a whimper and he let them slip shut, waiting. The anticipation stretched out and Merlin thought he might explode with it, until the first brush of hot lips at the head of his cock had him straining against Arthur’s strong hands. “ _Please,_ ” he begged, and Arthur gave a throaty chuckle before his tongue circled the head. And then the hot, wet suck of Arthur’s mouth taking him deep obliterated everything. 

“ _Fuck, Arthur,_ ” he groaned, writhing into the intense pleasure as Arthur throated his cock and bobbed up, reaching down to fondle his sac and rub a flat thumb over his hole. Merlin’s hips jerked up and tried to get down on that finger, wanting Arthur inside him. Last night had been incredible, and unexpected, but what he needed right now was Arthur buried inside him.

Arthur teased his hole with his thumb, working Merlin’s cock with his mouth until Merlin was wild with want, close to that point where the pleasure would break him away from his body. He hung on tightly to Arthur, hand on the back of Arthur’s head and fingers perched on one tensely muscled shoulder as Arthur levered himself up and down. “Arthur… _oh_ …fuck, I need…” He tried to show Arthur by rocking back on the thumb rubbing him hard, but not hard enough to penetrate. It was driving him crazy.

Arthur hummed around his cock, and Merlin thought he felt his lips turn in a smile as he scraped gently with his teeth at the sensitive underside. Merlin started to shake from the exertion of holding off his climax. It was like skirting the rim of a cliff on tiptoes, exhilarating and doomed. But Arthur pulled off at the precise moment before no return, and Merlin wrapped his own hand around the base of his cock, shuddering with need. Arthur dropped lower then, tongued his balls, and then spread Merlin with fingers that trembled against Merlin’s skin.

“Arthur, you don’t have to—”

Arthur’s grip got firmer and he let out a tiny groan on his exhale. “Yes,” was all he said before his tongue circled the tight flesh around Merlin’s hole, and he let out a hot breath against the skin there. Merlin bucked and fought to still himself, every nerve in his body connected to the place where Arthur’s tongue lapped at him. He groaned, and Arthur tongued harder, pushing into him finally and fucking him finally with the hot, wet tip of his tongue. Merlin felt pleasure chasing through his body and gripped himself hard to prolong this. But Arthur was relentless once he got going and pushed Merlin’s hand from his cock, replacing it with his own. He wasn’t going to let Merlin escape from the white-hot pleasure snaking through his limbs and ready to explode from his cock. Arthur fisted him roughly and jerked him while his tongue fucked into Merlin, and it was the push off the cliff, his orgasm rolling through him while he came over his stomach, moaning and quivering under Arthur’s hand and mouth.

Arthur stroked him through it, and then leaned up to watch as Merlin moved with it, back and neck still arched with it. “So hot,” Arthur whispered as he tongued at Merlin’s neck and kissed up his jaw. Merlin turned to catch his mouth, eager to taste himself on Arthur as his muscles slowly relaxed. He moaned involuntarily into Arthur’s mouth and clutched at him, arms coming around Arthur’s neck. He felt the overwhelming need to be closer. Oversensitive and spent from his orgasm, he still felt need in his gut. He still wanted Arthur in him.

Arthur’s erection poked him in the hip as they lay, Arthur half on top of him, kissing not idly, but softly at first and then with more purpose. Merlin could feel Arthur’s hips moving minutely, rooting for friction. He got his hands on Arthur’s shoulders and rolled him onto his back, feeling brave from the high of his orgasm and Arthur’s tender attentions. He twisted around to the bedside table to get what he needed and Arthur laid a silent hand on his back while he fished out the lube and a condom. “Merlin…” Arthur started, but Merlin turned to him and shook his head.

“I want to. Please.” 

Arthur looked down the length of Merlin’s body, took in his softened cock and the sprawl of his legs, and then slid his gaze back up to Merlin’s eyes. He looked slightly bewildered but nodded. He tried to sit up but Merlin nudged him back down. “Let me,” he said, and Arthur watched as Merlin slicked up his cock and rolled the condom on.

Merlin was far from a virgin, but he’d never done it quite like this before, swinging a leg over and sliding himself down on someone to ride him in daylight. Arthur was thick, and his tongue hadn’t been quite enough preparation for the stretch of him. Merlin kept his gaze fixed on Arthur as he worked himself onto Arthur’s cock, slowly when it hurt, until his balls grazed Arthur’s thighs. He let out a long, shaky breath and stilled until the burn eased, letting something heavier, demanding, settle into his gut. 

Arthur looked glassy under him, eyes dark as the first rays of December sunlight broke over the sill and warmed his skin to gold. It reminded Merlin of something precious, and he had to close his eyes against emotion. Instead of watching, he felt. He felt the way Arthur filled him, and then shifted his hips to get him deeper. He rolled himself over Arthur like that, needy, until Arthur huffed, a grunt escaping that told Merlin how badly he wanted to move. It opened Merlin’s eyes again and he leaned over, digging his fingers into Arthur’s shoulder blades for balance. And then he started to move. 

“Aww, _fuck,_ ” Arthur rasped as Merlin slid up and down Arthur’s cock, slow and steady at first. “Oh God, oh God,” Arthur started, as Merlin swung his hips and got the angle he needed. An animal noise made its way out of Merlin’s throat as he found the way to massage his own prostate on Arthur’s cock. 

“ _Arthur,_ ” he gasped, brokenly, after he’d gotten himself half-hard again. “So good.”

Arthur started to move against Merlin now. When Merlin sank down, Arthur thrust up, and their movements got erratic when the thing building between them ran away with them, moving fast and heavy and taking them away from sense. The small dorm room filled with the sounds of skin slapping and both of their low groans, the scent of sweat and sex hanging in Merlin’s nostrils as he abandoned himself to the arrhythmic pounding. 

Merlin forced himself to hold Arthur’s gaze at the end, when Arthur fought his own eyes shutting to show something raw on his face as he thrust up and up into his orgasm. Merlin saw and felt the moment it caught him, Arthur curling in on himself as it ripped through him, shuddering into the pleasure and Merlin’s name a chant as he came and came into Merlin.

Merlin was hard now, clenched around Arthur as Arthur let Merlin ride him through his climax. He gripped himself roughly as Arthur’s movements slowed and stripped himself until he was shaking over Arthur, sinking into his arms as he came in stripes on the pressed flesh between them.

~o~O~o~

They slept after another half-hearted clean up, and the next time they woke the sun was nearly at its day’s height. Merlin’s body was as sated as it had ever been in his life. His mind was remarkably still, worry and higher function sacrifice to the obliterating effects of pleasure. He stretched in Arthur’s arms, eliciting a murmured protest. He rolled towards Arthur then, who loosened his grip enough to let Merlin settle in facing him, legs tangling below the light duvet. He sniffed into Arthur’s neck, sliding himself down enough that he could easily rest his head in the curve of Arthur’s neck and shoulder.

“You awake?”

Arthur _mmm’d_ in response, and Merlin smiled. On some alternative plane he knew this was bad, feeling this good. This wouldn’t last, and losing it would likely be worse than anything Merlin had ever had to let go of in his short lifetime. He thought he must be sex-drunk, because instead of preparing himself for the moment when he had to loosen his grip on his cousin, he was wondering how long it would take them both to get hard again.

Arthur’s fingers tickled his ribs lightly and he squirmed, exhaling into Arthur’s skin. “What’s the plan?” Arthur was groggy but awake.

“I’ve got to pack up at some point. I have to be out of the dorm before Christmas.”

“Auntie said she was working a double-shift today and sleeping it off tomorrow.”

“Yeah, she does that every year before Christmas, to get the time off.” They had nowhere to be for about thirty-six hours, and nothing to do but pack a few suitcases.

Arthur nudged Merlin up, to get them face-to-face. His cheek was red from the press of the pillow and his eyes were sandy with sleep, and Merlin’s throat locked, his heart beating in his chest all of a sudden from something that wasn’t mere arousal. He pressed his lips between his teeth and closed his eyes for a moment, feeling Arthur’s hand against his jaw. “Hey, Merlin?”

Merlin nodded, eyes still closed. It was still too soon to shatter this with the force of what he felt. 

Arthur’s lips came against his cheekbone and down until their mouths found each other. Merlin fell into it, let the searching press of lips and soft play of tongues take him away again, transform that push of blood through his heart into the speed of desire. The wire tripped almost instantly, and this time they rocked together like that for ages. It took awhile for both of them to get to full hardness, and they didn’t rush it. They kissed and groped for what seemed like an hour, until Arthur had both their cocks in his hand. They fucked each other like that, through Arthur’s grip, long and lazy, and then hard at the end, foreheads pressed together and panting out their release. At the last, when Merlin’s climax pulled his whole body taut and he called Arthur’s name, Arthur slid his free hand over the rise of Merlin’s arse and dug his fingers into the flesh, urging Merlin on. 

Coming down, Merlin wondered if he could ever get enough of this. He’d never felt like this before, like the world was narrowed down to this singular desire, and nothing else mattered.

~o~O~o~

“How did you accumulate so much stuff?” Arthur asked as he picked over the overstuffed contents of one of Merlin’s bags. It was filled with books, mostly, and Merlin realised belatedly he should probably box them up rather than try to cram them into the soft duffels he used to carry his clothes. “And how the hell are we getting it all back to Brooklyn?”

Merlin shrugged. He hated moving, even the small shuffle of stuff from a dorm room at the end of the semester. He hadn’t brought much with him this time, but it added up. “I’ll call a car service, maybe get a minivan.”

They’d been up for a couple of hours, had finally showered and put clothes on. Arthur had run out for bagels while Merlin packed, and Merlin was sitting at his desk now, trying not to inhale his food. Sex made him hungry. Sex, and not eating until two in the afternoon. Arthur pulled a book from the pile and sprawled on the bare mattress. They’d stripped the bed after they’d showered, and Merlin was wondering whether it was worth putting another set of sheets on for their last night. Or maybe they should go back to Brooklyn? He didn’t feel ready to be in his mother’s house.

“What class are you reading this for? I thought you were all biology and chemistry.”

Merlin looked up from his bagel and Arthur held up the book he’d grabbed so Merlin could see. Merlin squinted to read the spine, a slim volume on voting game theory, nodded over a mouthful, swallowed. “Not mine. That’s Sergio’s. He must’ve left it here.

Arthur visibly scowled. “Does he spend a lot of time here?” 

Merlin shrugged. The thought of Arthur being jealous of anyone in his life was ridiculous enough that it should’ve been funny, but the impossibility of a future with Arthur just made it sad. “We’re still friends.”

Arthur contemplated the book in his hands. “What happened? Why’d you break up?”

Merlin had wondered that himself, not only about Sergio, but about both his boyfriends in college as well. Each of them had been wonderful in their own way, and Merlin had thought he was in love with each one. Sergio reminded him a lot of Arthur, and Merlin had been sure for a short while that he’d finally met someone who could quell his longing for something he couldn’t have. He had dulled it at least. But only for so long. 

Merlin looked at Arthur and saw the answer to the question. He averted his eyes to the empty bookcase and shrugged. “Why does anyone break up?”

“Lots of reasons. Specific ones, sometimes. Infidelity, incompatibility, a fight.”

“Well, it wasn’t really any of those. I care about him, but just…not enough.” He glanced at Arthur then and couldn’t make sense of the expression on his face. 

“Will I meet him?”

Merlin said a small internal thanks that Sergio had already left for the holidays. He shook his head. “Not this trip.”

They were silent for a few minutes. Arthur lay back with Sergio’s book, and Merlin finished off his mid-afternoon breakfast, taking stock of the mess of his room. When he finally stood and made for his wardrobe, braced against the disarray he’d find there, Arthur rolled over and cleared his throat. Merlin looked over his shoulder and took in the sight of Arthur stretched on his bare mattress, a pillow bunched under his neck, and a hand palming himself over his sweatpants. “Do you have to do that now?” Arthur asked.

Merlin’s heart sped, immediately, again. He wondered if Arthur would always have that effect on him, and what he was going to do about it. They should talk. He should force himself to back away from this before it got any harder to move on. Instead, he turned from his wardrobe and joined Arthur on the bed, grabbing a towel on his way to protect the mattress. He was sore from the morning, but Arthur promised he’d be gentle and Merlin wanted Arthur again. Arthur worked him open carefully with his fingers before taking Merlin on his hands and knees. He rocked into Merlin, huffing from restraint, and Merlin let himself float in the push and pull of it. He was grateful Arthur couldn’t see his face. 

In the end he found himself pushing back hard on Arthur to speed things up. It was too much: the slow, drawn-out drag of pleasure and the space to notice how it made him feel, how Arthur made him feel. He urged Arthur on until they were fucking hard again, and Arthur tugged on Merlin’s cock relentlessly, forcing Merlin to climax first. Arthur moaned shamelessly when he came shortly after, and they rolled to the bed together. Before Merlin could catch his breath Arthur had reached around to pant into Merlin’s mouth, lips hot and pleading Merlin for something he didn’t think he was allowed to give. He felt panic in the back of his throat, Arthur’s kisses and hands all over his body like the ghosts of something he was already missing.

They spent most of the afternoon and early evening in bed, talking, fucking, doing everything possible to avoid the one subject they needed to discuss. Merlin left the dorm room for the first time after dark with Arthur’s hand in his. They got a quick drink at The Fat Black Pussycat and didn’t speak to anyone but each other. Arthur told him more about his thesis and his dream of returning to the UN, or possibly the diplomatic corps. He wanted to know what Merlin’s plans were, and he hung on every word. Merlin was unglued by Arthur’s intense stare and breathless questions. Merlin had plans, things he wanted to do. But talking about the future with Arthur in this moment was unreal. When Merlin explained he’d probably do a post-doc abroad somewhere, Arthur wanted to know where. It felt like they were talking around possibilities without actually talking about them, caught in a moment of wanting and only too aware that on the other side of the moment was anything but the safe intimacy they’d fallen into.

When they got back to the room, they were finally almost too tired to get off. They couldn’t let go of each other though. Merlin felt himself clinging to this, and he did cling to Arthur’s naked body when they wrapped themselves in a remaining clean sheet and sucked each other off before falling heavily into sleep.

~o~O~o~

A car was due to pick them up at two, and Merlin had finished his packing hours earlier. They’d slept in and gone for a walk through the Village. It was a blustery day and the wind had been invigorating. They returned with cheeks chapped and hair wild. Merlin had been afraid to take his clothes off again. He thought if he got back into bed with Arthur, he wouldn’t have the strength to crawl out and head back to his mother’s. But Arthur had him stripped minutes after they got back to their room and got them both off with his expert hands, leaving Merlin boneless and numb to thought again.

This was it though. He wasn’t sure whether Arthur would expect them to sleep in the same bed as they had for weeks of that fateful summer, but there was no way they were going to carry on like this at his mum’s. 

There just wasn’t a way. Was there?

He sat on the edge of the bed chewing his lip in thought when Arthur came back from the loo. “Are you okay?” he asked, taking in Merlin’s posture on the bed.

“What? Oh, yeah. Fine.”

Arthur approached and nudged a space for himself between Merlin’s knees, slid his fingers through Merlin’s hair. “You’re worried?”

Merlin looked up and saw Arthur’s comprehension. He’d been waiting for some sign from Arthur that he understood what they’d gotten themselves into. He nodded. “Just, this was…”

Arthur waited for him to finish and smirked when Merlin couldn’t. “It was. And?”

“And now we’re going to my mum’s. I wish it could last a little longer.” 

Arthur regarded him closely, face closed as he thought. Finally he pulled away and sat next to Merlin, keeping his hands on his own knees. “So, you think we have to stop at Auntie’s?”

Merlin slowly nodded. “We do, don’t we?”

Arthur took a deep breath and exhaled. “I don’t—that’s not what I want.”

“But what are we doing, Arthur? I mean, could we really keep it from my mum?”

Merlin turned to take in Arthur’s profile, and he looked grim for a moment before softening his features and facing Merlin. “Do we have to define what this is, just yet?” Arthur shook his head as though he were trying to get his words right. “I mean, maybe not carry on quite so loudly, but how are we going to not…?”

Merlin knew what he meant. He had no idea how he’d keep his hands off Arthur for the next month. A whole month. “Even if we could keep it quiet, Arthur, then what?” Merlin winced at his own words. He didn’t want to be the one to say it. It was going to hurt to walk away from this. Arthur’s complete physical and emotional attention for the past two days had been intoxicating, but Arthur didn’t seem troubled by the inevitable and Merlin was afraid to find out why. 

Arthur was solid next to him though. In this moment he was present. He took Merlin’s hand and squeezed. “Can we not worry about that? I’m here for a month. I want to—I think we could keep it down at your mum’s house without stopping. Can we just see how it goes?”

Merlin swallowed around his objections. He knew he wasn’t ready to stop this. “We can try.” 

Arthur’s brow scrunched up and he pursed his lips as he studied Merlin’s face. Then he let it go.

~o~O~o~

Merlin unpacked his clothes while Hunith chatted with Arthur in the kitchen. He’d slept in the tiny bedroom from his childhood off and on since he left for college, but never longer than the stretch of a school holiday. He’d spent his summers elsewhere after that last summer with Arthur. His insides were twisted up with the memory of what Arthur had made him feel then, and what he felt now. He wasn’t lying when he said he’d ceased to feel guilty for wanting his cousin, but he knew neither of them could sacrifice Hunith’s or Morgana’s peace of mind, or lose their friends, for that matter, for this. His hands were unsteady as he folded his jeans and T-shirts and jumpers into his drawers.

Later, he followed the smell of root vegetables roasting in the oven to the kitchen, steadying himself on the threshold at the sight of Arthur, loose-limbed at the table, and Hunith at the counter preparing a fish. 

“Smells good, Mum.”

“We’ll be eating in half an hour.”

Arthur nodded to the chair across from him and Merlin sank into it, having trouble meeting Arthur’s gaze.

“What did you boys get up to in the city?” Merlin braced for a second, but Arthur smiled and shrugged. The warmth of Hunith’s kitchen and her excitement at having them both there for the holidays rendered the question nearly as harmless as it was.

“Not a lot,” Arthur answered, eyeing Merlin pointedly. Hunith had her back to them. “Walked and talked, poked into the shops around the Village.”

All true. Merlin let himself breathe. The queasiness he’d felt all day settled minutely and he found his voice. “And packed. I had more stuff in that little room than I realised.”

“I’m glad you had some help,” Hunith spoke over her shoulder and smiled at the two of them.

They sat long over dinner, and Arthur excused himself to bed after, pleading lingering jet lag. It was completely out of character and Merlin worried that Hunith would find it strange. Arthur was quieter, less frantic, after days of unrelenting sex. He hoped Hunith bought the jet lag story. 

After helping his mum clean up, he sat with her. They hadn’t seen each other since the days before Hunith left for Uther’s funeral. “How’s Morgana?” Merlin asked her.

“Sad, as you’d imagine. But strong. She’s got someone, and I think that always helps.”

“Who is it? Arthur never says.”

“Arthur’s old mate, Leon. Remember him?” Merlin nodded. He did, vaguely. “I think Arthur doesn’t approve.”

Merlin sniffed, trying not to smile at the irony. “How does Arthur seem to you?” he asked.

“A little lost. That’s to be expected. You’re an orphan at any age when you lose both your parents.” 

 

Arthur was asleep when Merlin climbed over him to get to the wall side of the bed. The blustery air from the morning had turned arctic, and the radiator hadn’t caught up with the plunge yet. Merlin shivered under the duvet, feet digging behind him for warmth between Arthur’s calves. Arthur roused to swallow Merlin in his embrace. “You okay?” he asked into Merlin’s ear.

Merlin nodded. He wasn’t sure, but he was trying to be. 

They were silent for minutes, Merlin’s bare back slowly warming against Arthur’s chest. “You’ll tell me if you start to feel weird about this?” Arthur’s tone was unfamiliar, an edge of worry to it.

“Sure.” Merlin backed himself in tighter to Arthur. “I mean, it is weird. Isn’t it? Being here?”

“A little.” 

Merlin kept waiting for Arthur to kick the feet out from under him. Even after the last forty-eight hours and everything Arthur had said to him, or half-said to him, he couldn’t make sense of Arthur’s motivations. 

Merlin’s thoughts were in danger of tumbling into old territory when Arthur shifted closer still and nipped the shell of his ear. “Hey, did your mum go to bed?” Arthur’s tone had changed. His voice licked at Merlin, tricked something in his mood, and the mischievous words pulled at him. Merlin stiffened in anticipation.

“Mmhm.”

Arthur’s hand slid over Merlin’s bare abdomen and back up to his nipple. He played idly until Merlin’s whole body succumbed to Arthur. He felt Arthur reading him, beginning to move at precisely the moment when Merlin had let go of the tightness in his own spine. Desire started to eat at his gut. 

Arthur nipped small kisses into the back of Merlin’s neck, across his shoulder, the scrape of teeth and play of tongue behind them. He groaned as Arthur hardened into the swell of his arse, and Merlin could feel Arthur’s breath turning into something pointed, exhales coming harder. It happened so fast. Merlin realised it had been that way the very first time. And constantly for the last two days. A touch, acquiescence, and they were off, their bodies running ahead faster than Merlin could think.

~o~O~o~

On Christmas Eve, Merlin and Arthur went out to buy a last-minute tree. Arthur insisted the high ceilings in Hunith’s living room demanded a seven- footer, and Merlin laughed the half-mile walk back to the apartment as the two of them lifted and dropped and dragged the tree through Fort Greene. They spent the evening decorating with the hodgepodge of ornaments Merlin and Hunith had collected over the years. The strings of fairy lights had seen better days, but more than half of them worked, and Merlin sat with his odd little family in the glow of yellow pinpoints of light for an hour before bed.

Arthur and Merlin held each other quietly that night, aware that Hunith was still puttering about the living room. Merlin’s heart knocked in his chest as he lay there, his body begging for more of what it now expected. They lay face-to-face, and Arthur moved their hips together, rubbing himself hard against Merlin. “Fuck,” he whispered. “I want you so bad.” 

Merlin stifled a whimper into Arthur’s neck. “Shhh,” he forced out, his own cock growing in his boxers, stiffening into Arthur’s groin.

“We can be quiet,” Arthur whispered into his ear.

Merlin shook his head even as he started to move, and he stuffed a moan back into his chest. Arthur’s hands snaked down his ribs, over his hips, and into his boxers, curling around his arse, pulling Merlin to him, tight. Merlin huffed at the grind, the friction through his boxers. 

The knock of wood, pat of feet, flick of a switch in the living room had Merlin holding his breath. He knew his mum could hear them even from her room if she were awake and they weren’t careful, but her retreat to bed uncoiled something in him and he met Arthur’s mouth, open and warm. They wriggled out of their boxers as they kissed, and Arthur groaned when Merlin wrapped a leg over his thigh, the skin of their cocks sliding roughly as they thrust. “You’re killing me, Merlin,” Arthur spoke into Merlin’s lips, nipping at his jaw as he pulled Merlin by the arse so that they were humping like that, tangled on their sides. “I’ll be quiet. I just need…”

Merlin sighed and nodded, needing too. 

When Arthur had stretched him, quickly, with fingers that had learned in less than a week how to play Merlin, he rolled Merlin onto his back and took him like that. He pushed in with one hand stroking Merlin’s face, thumb running over Merlin’s lips. Merlin bit at Arthur’s thumb, sucked it into his mouth, used it to pacify his own groans as Arthur filled him. He wanted to go slow, to drag this out, but Arthur had already ignited a desperate edge to his arousal and he lifted his hips to get Arthur in him deeper. He sucked greedily at Arthur’s thumb and Arthur leaned over him, holding his mouth as they kissed around it. Arthur thrust then, his hips snapping into Merlin. It went fast, Arthur’s balls slapping at his arse and Merlin’s hand around his own cock as Arthur fucked into him. The sounds of sex were unmistakable, even as they swallowed around their noises of pleasure. The slap of skin and sway of the bed were loud enough, yet Merlin couldn’t make himself care, could only feel what Arthur was doing to him; pleasure unhinged from his cock and balls into his gut and limbs. 

Arthur’s mouth got sloppy as his thrusts stuttered. He whispered Merlin’s name into his neck, burying his face there as he fucked hard. “So good. Fuck, fuck, _fuck._ ” His voice husky, not quite a whisper anymore, he started to shake and then came into Merlin. Merlin opened his eyes to see Arthur biting his lip, something dark and beautiful on his face in the shadows of the streetlight. 

Merlin was close but not ready to finish. He held Arthur as he shuddered through his orgasm and slowly came down from it. Arthur’s fingers dug into Merlin’s hair as they lay there and Merlin resisted the urge to rut into Arthur’s pelvis. 

“Can I stay here?” Arthur asked, his voice low and rough. Merlin held him tighter.

Finally, Arthur pulled out and tied off the condom; he chucked it into the bin by the bed and crawled back over Merlin. Merlin held himself fast, erection still straining. Arthur bent down and took Merlin into his mouth, wasting no time with teasing. He sucked hard and fast, the heat and wet of his mouth and perfect slide of his tongue sending Merlin over the edge quickly. Arthur nudged his balls with his knuckles, coaxing Merlin through an almost painful orgasm, the pleasure tearing out of his groin with burning heat. He grunted, still suppressing the loudest groan, but was wrecked enough that soft curses escaped. He petted Arthur’s jaw and came hard into that sinful mouth that had undone him over and over already. 

Arthur sucked off, licking Merlin clean, and dug his fingers into Merlin’s arse, pressing hard before he released him and fell heavily into the mattress next to Merlin. “Merry Christmas,” Arthur said, happiness in his voice that was like a drug to Merlin. He wanted Arthur to always sound like that.

“Merry Christmas.”

~o~O~o~

“It’s sodding cold out here, Arthur.” Merlin pulled his neck into his parka and his beanie down over his ears. “It’s not too late to walk back and hop a cab.”

Arthur was a pace ahead and shook his head, not looking behind him. “Wimp.”

They weren’t halfway onto the Brooklyn Bridge and the wind over the East River had dropped the already icy temperature. Arthur hadn’t said, but Merlin knew why they were doing this. He was just too cold to get into the spirit. 

Merlin trotted to catch up with Arthur and leaned into his shoulder until Arthur obliged and put an arm around him, chafing him for warmth. “We’ll get something hot to drink on the other side, okay?”

Merlin nodded and buried his gloved hands into his pockets. Arthur was quiet for most of the walk. They stopped when they were at the height of the bridge with the best view of lower Manhattan. “It feels like yesterday to me,” Arthur said, his breath a white puff of air. “I remember every minute of that day.”

Arthur tugged Merlin down onto a bench and Merlin shivered, the wood cold against his jeans. He sat on his hands and breathed into his scarf. “I feel weird about it sometimes.” 

He peeked up at Arthur and found his curious gaze. Arthur didn’t seem as affected by the cold. “How do you mean?”

“The only thing I remember—really the only thing I felt that day—was being terrified that something had happened to you. It was so much bigger than that, but it wasn’t for me.” Merlin looked over Arthur’s shoulder at the altered skyline and ground his teeth. “After, I was so relieved I had a hard time comprehending the tragedy of it.” He’d never said it, though he figured Arthur knew. He understood it was natural on some level, to worry about your loved ones first and strangers second, but it felt wrong in connection with that day.

Arthur closed his eyes and Merlin wondered if he’d said too much. Arthur was silent for minutes and Merlin couldn’t look away from his stormy expression. 

Arthur’s eyes were wet when he opened them. He turned on the bench towards Merlin and pulled one of his gloves off, ran his bare palm over Merlin’s jaw. “Can we talk about this?”

Merlin swallowed. He was miserably cold, toes-ready-to-crack-off cold, and he wasn’t ready to let go of Arthur. He looked down, unable to meet Arthur’s eye then, and shook his head. “I can’t—” 

“Please, Merlin.”

Merlin chewed on his lip and nodded, eyes fixed on the zip of Arthur’s coat.

Merlin waited in the quiet morning air. It was New Year’s Eve. It was early enough and cold enough that there was almost no foot traffic on the bridge. They were alone for the moment.

“I want us to try to make this work.” 

The words wheeled over Merlin like a truck. He startled, a bizarre combination of relief and fear stealing his breath for a moment. “How? What would that even mean?”

“It would mean being together as a couple.”

Merlin’s eyes widened and he looked up, half expecting Arthur to be taking the piss. Arthur’s expression was grave, his mouth pursed as he watched for Merlin’s reaction. To Merlin, it was like being offered the sun—a dangerous gift that would incinerate him if he took it. More than anything, he didn’t believe Arthur was up for the sacrifice.

“You have no idea what you’re saying. Think about Morgana, my mum, our friends. They’d be horrified. We can’t—”

Arthur cut him off, grasping him by the shoulders. “I love you.” 

Merlin warmed instantly at the words, but half of what he felt was anguish.

“Of course you do, Arthur. You have to. I’m your family. You love Morgana, and my mum. You loved Uther, and you loved your mum more than any of us. Loving me doesn’t mean this’ll work.”

“It isn’t like that with you. It’s not like anyone else. You know it’s always been different with us.”

Merlin was angry and he didn’t know why. He pushed back from Arthur an inch. “Maybe it is different. But I know you, Arthur. A life with your first cousin—I’m not the choice you make. You won’t stay.”

Arthur’s face reddened then and his voice rose. “Don’t tell me what I choose. Since when are you afraid of what other people think?”

Arthur’s returned anger shook Merlin. This conversation felt like it was coming from out of nowhere. He’d been waiting for it since that first night, but this wasn’t what he’d expected. He was bewildered. “That’s just it, Arthur. I know what it’s like not to fit in. You have no idea what it’s like and you won’t stay. You won’t live like that.”

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose and hung his head, allowing Merlin to put more space between them. His volume dropped so that Merlin had to strain to hear him over the wind. “Then what are we supposed to do? I’m not going to stop feeling this way. You think I won’t stay but I can’t leave, either. I won’t.”

Merlin dug his palms into his eyes before tears could fall and then clasped his hands in his lap. “But you will, Arthur. You can have anyone you want. Maybe you do have them all, I don’t even know.” Merlin’s own words loosened his moorings. “You could leave when it gets tough. I’m not like that. I won’t let go. I won’t bounce back.”

Arthur’s face tightened. “You’re the one who’ll move on.” His tone had deflated. “It’s true, I haven’t got it right with anyone. No one else fits. That’s why I have everything to lose.” Merlin felt sick, and he hid behind closed eyes. “You’ll love someone, Merlin. You’re capable of that. It won’t be me.”

Merlin shook his head and felt the pain of confession gripping his chest. A wet choke escaped and the words shook out of his throat. “It is you. It’s already done, Arthur.”

Arthur pulled Merlin’s hands away from his eyes with his own and held them. Merlin’s confession hadn’t softened Arthur’s expression. His downturned mouth and half-lidded eyes turned Merlin’s stomach. “I don’t get it. If you feel that way, then why can’t we try this?”

Merlin shook his head. “I just don’t believe we can make it work. I think you don’t realise how hard it would be.” 

“And you don’t trust that I’ve thought about this?”

“We’ve never even talked about it, Arthur. I had no idea…”

Arthur nodded and dropped Merlin’s hands. He sat silent, and Merlin found himself searching for some way out of this conversation. He couldn’t see any path for them that worked, and the thought of giving over to a fantasy and losing Arthur somewhere down the road was the only thing worse than walking away from it now. Merlin’s mind was still racing when Arthur stood and gestured back towards Brooklyn. 

Merlin felt his heart beat in his throat: panic. “I thought you wanted to go into the city.”

Arthur turned his face up into the frigid grey air. “You’re cold. Let’s go home.”

Merlin had stopped shivering, an ice-cold brick sitting on his chest and numbing him from the inside. He felt short of breath as they walked, like he couldn’t get enough air, words clambering at his throat to make this better but none of them finding voice. 

They were a few blocks from home when Merlin’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He stopped and fished it out awkwardly with his gloves and saw Gwen’s ID shining at him. Arthur stopped with him.

“Gwen?”

“Hey, hi!” Gwen and Lance had gone off to Berkeley together when she graduated from high school, and they were still living out there. He saw both of them at Christmas sometimes, and occasionally in the summer. He’d been to visit them once in California. He realised he’d never been in touch about the holidays this year. “Are you home?”

“I am. What about you? Are you back?”

“Yeah, I thought I should come back for Will. For the memorial service. Lance is here, too.”

Will would be back from Peru in a couple of days. Merlin had nearly forgotten that the family was holding a memorial service for John in the neighbourhood in mid-January.

“I’m glad. Will’ll be glad, too.”

“So what are you doing tonight? Party plans?”

New Year’s Eve. Merlin looked to Arthur, who’d taken a seat on a nearby stoop, his face blank. “No plans, really. Arthur’s here.” 

“Oh, great! Are you both up for a night out?”

“Um.” Merlin looked to Arthur, who shook his head minutely, anticipating Merlin’s question. “I’ll have to talk to Arthur. He might have plans. I could do something though.”

“You okay? You sound kind of down.” Merlin shook himself. He couldn’t afford to fall apart over this. Arthur had asked him to take a risk that he knew was too big for both of them. It wasn’t anything he could talk about with Gwen.

“I’m fine. Just freezing my arse off.” He wasn’t really, could barely feel the cold now. “Can I call you in a bit and we’ll make a plan?”

“Sure. We’ll be at my dad’s all afternoon.”

“Okay, speak to you in a bit.” 

“Merlin?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s good to hear your voice. Tell Arthur I’d love to see him, too. I know Lance would be thrilled.”

“Of course.

~o~O~o~

Arthur was silent the last few blocks home, and Merlin caught his sleeve on the threshold of their building. “Hey.”

Arthur stopped but didn’t turn to face him. 

“I should see Gwen and Lance. It’s been a long time. And they’d love to see you.” Arthur turned, giving Merlin his profile. He looked far away, and Merlin had to suppress the urge to shake him. “I get it, if you don’t want to go out. It’s New Year’s Eve though. We could do something quiet. Just tell me what you want.” His voice sounded thin and desperate to his own ears.

Arthur took in a deep breath and exhaled, finally turning to face Merlin. “I think you should go out with Gwen and Lance. I’ll see them soon. You can tell them I had other plans.” Arthur’s voice was cold and he reached for the door. 

“Arthur, please.” Merlin was on the verge of tears again. “Can you just…”

Arthur’s head bowed. “What, Merlin?”

“I don’t like this any more than you do. I fucking hate it.”

Arthur nodded, still facing the door. “I know.” 

“So please don’t treat me like the enemy here. I can’t lose you.” Merlin’s voice broke.

Arthur let go of the knob and leaned back into the door. He took in Merlin’s tears and the coldness in his expression distorted into something pained. “You won’t. I shouldn’t have said anything. I—”

“No, I’m glad you told me. It’s better that we’re honest about how we feel.” Merlin believed that, even if he was doing a spectacularly poor job handling this. “I’d give anything for the situation to be different.”

Arthur sighed and ran his tongue over his bottom lip. “Listen, I get how you feel. It’s not going to change what I want. It seems impossible to you, but in my mind it’s as simple as making a choice. I’d make that choice. I just need you to know that.”

Merlin’s eyes burned. He wanted to believe that so badly, but when it came down to it, he didn’t. He nodded anyway and averted his eyes, ashamed at how little he believed it.

“We can still—”

“I don’t know, Merlin.” Merlin glanced at Arthur, caught his eye, and he could see Arthur’s slight wince over his own words. “Yeah. I mean, we can try.”

“Would you rather we sleep apart?”

Arthur shook his head slowly in thought, his expression too forlorn to be mistaken for anything but discomfort at the thought of continuing their current arrangement. But Merlin was desperate enough to hold out hope that they could find a way to keep on as they had been for just a little longer.

~o~O~o~

Merlin felt sick about leaving Arthur home alone on New Year’s Eve, but Arthur insisted he was tired and planned to turn in early. Hunith was having a rare night out with friends and hadn’t asked after their plans.

He met Gwen and Lance at a local bar and felt adrift the minute he entered. He hadn’t been apart from Arthur since his arrival, and the full weight of their conversation that morning began to sink in. It was always good to see Gwen, and over the years he’d gotten closer to Lance. But he was less than half present as they caught each other up on their lives. 

When Lance excused himself to get a second round of drinks for them, Gwen turned on Merlin, planting a firm hand on his forearm. “So, what’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” He flushed. Gwen knew him too well for this conversation to be easy.

“Something’s wrong. Is it Arthur?”

He balked, stunned that she’d gone there so quickly. “Why would you—”

“Because it’s New Year’s Eve and who else would he be out with? He hasn’t been here in years. And you look miserable.” Merlin shook his head and Gwen raised her eyebrows. “I haven’t seen you this upset since the summer Arthur was here.” 

Merlin gaped. He hadn’t known that she’d noticed then, let alone understood how she could remember it now. “Don’t look so surprised,” she said. “You two barely spoke for half the summer. I’m not blind.”

“You never said anything.”

“I figured you’d tell me if you wanted to talk about it.”

Merlin was breathing heavily, half convinced he should tell her. He had no idea how she’d react, but of all the people whose disapproval he feared, Gwen seemed the most likely to understand. “I don’t know how to,” he said honestly. 

She patted his arm and gave him a sad smile. “Do you want to try?”

Merlin tried to steady his breath and looked around to make sure no one was listening to them. He caught sight of Lance in a long line at the bar. They had at least five or ten minutes to themselves. It was too noisy for anyone to be eavesdropping. He inhaled and held his breath a moment, searching for words. It was unnameable. The word _incest_ didn’t describe what was between Arthur and him, at least not to Merlin. Not really. They weren’t brothers, much as they’d been raised as nearly such. It was probably as bad in some people’s eyes, but would Gwen see it that way?

“Something happened that summer.” Gwen held his gaze and nodded encouragingly. “He caught me and Gwaine in my bed, and he got upset.” 

“Will told me.” Merlin felt badly that he’d never said anything at all to Gwen, but he’d been so mindlessly jealous of her that summer that he hadn’t figured out a way to communicate with her. “But it was more than that?”

“Yeah.” Merlin chewed on his lip. “That night, he told me he was jealous of Gwaine.” Gwen’s expression didn’t change. She looked serious, but not yet horrified. “And…well…fuck. This is so hard to say. I’m so afraid of what you’ll think.”

“I think I know where you’re headed with this, Merlin. It’s okay.”

He exhaled raggedly. “Yeah, so, I guess just what you’re thinking. Something happened between us that night. I’d been…attracted to him all summer. But I freaked out. I felt so guilty.”

Gwen’s face scrunched up in concern. “Oh, Merlin. I wish you’d told me.”

“I can barely say it now.” 

“It’s okay, you know. It really is.” The warmth in her voice settled Merlin, and he let a knot untie in his gut.

“Well, so. It’s complicated. That thing that was there, it’s still…maybe it’s always been…”

Gwen nodded. “I see. I can’t say I’m shocked.” 

“Really? Because I am. I’m still shocked by it.”

“The way Arthur talked about you. The way you looked at each other. It could just be a family thing, but someone really paying attention could see that it was more.”

Merlin wondered who else had seen it, and whether anyone had actually consciously thought it. He and Arthur had been increasingly reckless, and loud, since Christmas Eve. His mum might have heard them.

“I honestly thought we’d get over it.”

“So that’s it. You haven’t.”

Merlin shook his head. 

“Well, I don’t know what all you’ve said to each other about it, but can I give you my two cents?”

Merlin grimaced. There was only one answer to that question.

“Find a way to be okay with it. Whatever it is. Whatever you decide to do about it. It’s not a crime. Sure, it’s taboo, but you don’t need to be okay with anyone but yourself.”

“But my mum—”

“I get it. I can’t imagine what I’d do in your shoes, but I can say from a distance that there’s no point in letting it eat you up. You’re both good people. Loving each other too much is not doing any harm in this world.”

Merlin believed that. He’d believed that at least since September 11, and maybe even before then. The thought of alienating their friends and family, mostly of hurting his mother, was what he couldn’t get around. And his persistent fear that it would all be too much for Arthur in the end. His prince of the football pitch, charmer of all, centre of the world. How would he deal with ostracism? When Merlin was the only person left in Arthur’s world, wouldn’t he come to hate him?

“We got into a fight. I should go back.” Merlin looked at his watch. It was only just past eleven. There was plenty of time to be back by midnight. “Do you mind?”

“Of course not.”

“Can you not say anything…?” He hated asking her to keep a secret from Lance, but it was Arthur’s secret to tell. As much as Merlin cared about Lance, he was still Arthur’s friend first.

“I won’t.”

Merlin saw Lance threading his way through the crowd with three bottles of beer and Merlin dug some bills out of his pocket to leave for them. He stood as Lance reached their table. 

“You’re not leaving, are you?”

“Yeah, sorry. I’ve had a hard day. I feel like I’m going to crash.” It was true. He felt lighter with the secret off his chest, but he was still shattered, and not at all clear what to do with Gwen’s advice.

“We’ll see you soon then?” Lance squeezed his shoulder and pulled him in for a hug. “Tell that good-for-nothing cousin of yours we expect to see him, too.”

Merlin smiled. “I will.”

~o~O~o~

He let himself into the apartment at a quarter to twelve. The lights were out in the living room and the hall was dark as well. Hunith was still out. He peeked into the kitchen and saw nothing but the glow of the nightlight from the bathroom. He popped in to brush his teeth and then padded in his stocking feet back to his bedroom.

He saw the low light of the small bedside lamp under the door and knocked before he pushed the door open. Arthur was propped up on his pillow, one of Merlin’s issues of Science News folded in his hands. Arthur rubbed his eye as Merlin came in and closed the door behind him. He looked as exhausted as Merlin felt.

“You’re home early.”

Merlin stood near the door. He saw Arthur was reading the article on biofuels that Merlin had told him about last week. “Riveting holiday reading?”

Arthur glanced down at the page. “It’s interesting. They discuss science in a way I understand.”

Merlin shuffled to the wardrobe and began undressing. He unbuttoned his shirt and shimmied out of his jeans. The room was overly heated now, the radiators banging away around the clock since true winter had arrived. 

“It’s almost New Year’s,” Arthur said from behind him.

Merlin glanced at his watch as he unbuckled it. Three minutes to midnight. He set it on his desk and made his way back to the bed.

Arthur shut out the light and Merlin climbed over him wordlessly to tuck himself under the duvet, keeping a safe half-foot between them.

“Hey,” Arthur said, sliding over to curl into Merlin’s side.

“Hey.” Merlin closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His conversation with Gwen had his head spinning. “Can I give you a New Year’s kiss?”

Arthur didn’t answer, just pulled Merlin’s face in and pressed their lips together. Merlin chased the warmth of Arthur’s breath, let Arthur lick into his mouth, and sank his whole body into it. They kissed slowly, heavily. Arthur was quiet, his lips soft on Merlin’s, but he had the brakes on from the beginning and Merlin struggled to sleep, wound tight with desire that persisted long after Arthur had drifted off.

~o~O~o~

Ten days later, Gwaine buzzed with no warning, appearing on Merlin’s doorstep with a six-pack of beer and a scar from his cheekbone down to his jaw. It was four in the afternoon.

Merlin let him in and got a slapping hug at the door.

“Does Arthur know you’re here? He’s out.” Arthur was avoiding Merlin more and more each day, and had decided to cut his visit short, planning to head back to London after John’s memorial service. 

“I called him last week. I’ll see him soon. I wanted to make sure I had some time to sit down with you.”

Merlin waved Gwaine into his living room. He wasn’t unrecognizable. He’d aged well. He was handsome, his hair short but not shorn, stubble that Merlin supposed was allowed on leave, and muscle that spoke of a kind of labour Merlin had never known in his lifetime. He was changed though. Radically so. His smile was hard and his eyes darted, unable to meet Merlin head-on. 

Merlin directed them to the sofa, and Gwaine opened two bottles of Corona before he sat.

“You talked to Will yet?” He flopped on Merlin’s sofa and propped his booted feet up on the coffee table.

“Yeah, a couple of days ago.”

“Rough. It’s rough.” Gwaine swigged his beer. “It’s good you’re here.”

It was a little early in the day for Merlin to drink, but he sipped at the beer and studied Gwaine’s profile. “I feel kind of useless. He’s grieving and I don’t know how to help.”

“There’s no helping it. We’ll just be here, is all.”

“How’d you swing it?” Arthur had mentioned that Gwaine would be at the memorial service, but he hadn’t said more. Over the past week he and Arthur had barely communicated. It wasn’t like before. They were both trying this time, but the limbo they’d been in wasn’t working for them anymore.

“I had leave coming up and they let me take it early. Percy’s meeting me in a few days.” He winked at Merlin.

“I heard about you and Percy.” Merlin grinned. He liked the idea of it. He could picture Percy as a teenager, tall, freckled, and gawky. 

“Sex and funerals. That’s what they make leave for.” Gwaine’s sense of humour had taken on an edge. It wasn’t so much the words, but an undertone in his delivery. Merlin remembered how scared Gwaine had been to fight. He couldn’t imagine what his old friend had been through in the past five years.

“It’s okay to laugh, Merlin. You gotta laugh.”

Merlin tried to smile. “It’s not that funny.”

Gwaine’s eyes slowed and took Merlin in, finally. “God, you’re still gorgeous, Merlin.” Merlin felt his ears heat. “Maybe more so.” Merlin shook his head, ducked his chin. “You never could take a compliment.”

“You’re impossible. Tell me about Percy.”

“That is one hunk of man I’ve picked up. I’m not sure what else there is to say.”

Merlin laughed. “So that’s it? He’s hot? Or just big.”

“He’s both, no ‘just’ about it.”

“And you’re serious?”

Gwaine’s smile fell and he tipped his head back on the sofa cushion, looking up at the ceiling. “War is serious. Love is something else. I love him. It’s the thing that makes me smile.”

“That sounds serious.”

“Not life or death serious.”

Merlin thought about that. Wasn’t love life or death serious, sometimes? “It could be.”

Gwaine tilted his head to Merlin, not lifting it off the sofa. “You still all screwed up in the head about this, Merlin?”

Merlin was taken aback. His defences went up, and guilt about the way he’d treated Gwaine that summer surged. “I’m not sure I know what you mean, but I hope I’ve grown up since I saw you last.”

“Sorry, Merlin. No offence, okay?” Merlin nodded, but he was uncomfortable. “Listen. There’s nothing about sex and love that’s gonna get me killed. It isn’t gonna kill Perce, either. It does kill some people. But it won’t kill us, so it’s all good. It’s a miracle I’m here. Sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve to be. As long as we’re not hurting anyone and no one’s hurting us, I don’t have a lot of cause to get overly analytical about the things that make me happy.”

“I get that, I guess.” Merlin smirked. “It sounds pretty serious to me.” 

Gwaine shoved at Merlin’s shoulder. “Smart-ass.”

They talked for over an hour. Gwaine was thin on the details of his life apart from his relationship with Percy. Merlin wasn’t sure if that was because he wasn’t allowed to share secrets of war, or whether he simply didn’t want to talk about it. Either way, Merlin didn’t press. He told Gwaine about graduate school and his failed relationship with Sergio, and hated the omission of the person who mattered most to him in the world. 

Gwaine asked anyway, when they were saying goodbye at the door. “So what’s up with you and the princess? You deal with your unresolved feelings for each other yet?”

If he hadn’t had this conversation with Gwen not much more than a week earlier, he would have been floored. As it was, he was speechless.

“I’m not a genius. I talk to your cousin. He’s at least as transparent as you are.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Tell me you’ll work it out.”

“I don’t know what to do about it.” Gwaine was leaning in the doorway and studying Merlin’s face.

“You’re worried about your mum?” Merlin thought about Hunith’s tense presence over the past week. She knew something was wrong between Merlin and Arthur, just as she had so many years ago. 

“Among other people. But yeah, mostly. And…” It felt like a betrayal to admit his fears about Arthur. Gwaine knew Arthur though. He might get it. “I have a hard time believing Arthur would stick it out.”

Gwaine nodded solemnly, and then shook his head, his expression shifting. “Then you don’t know your cousin very well.”

Merlin didn’t have an answer to that. He looked to Gwaine for more, but he was zipping his leather jacket and seemed to have said what he had to say. “Am I wrong?”

Gwaine was still for a moment. “Arthur’s been in love with you as long as I’ve known him. You must know that.”

“I didn’t know that. At least, not before.”

“Well, you were young. You’re still young. But you can see it now.”

 _Maybe_ , Merlin thought. _Yes_.

“It’s not life or death, Merlin. Be happy, okay?”

Merlin nodded, afraid to let the words sink in. It couldn’t be that simple.

Gwaine grabbed him into a bear hug and left him stunned in his living room, wondering when Arthur would be home.

~o~O~o~

Hunith was home first. Merlin was in a daze, possessed and not at all sure he wasn’t doing the most destructive and reckless thing he’d ever done in his life. But he took her into the kitchen and asked her to listen. It wasn’t an easy conversation, but she wasn’t shocked, either. She’d known, on some level. She admitted she’d wondered, even years ago, about how close they were and what could possibly have gotten between them. She hadn’t wanted to see it, but she said after September 11, she had an inkling of what they were to each other. She cried, and Merlin’s heart sank into his stomach. She also said she loved them both, and said she’d give them a chance.

Merlin waited for Arthur to come home, and when it got on to midnight, he texted, _we need to talk_. Arthur hadn’t said where he was going, and as it got later Merlin felt the high of the afternoon’s revelations sinking into something panicked and dark. Arthur could be anywhere, with anyone. He’d already accepted Merlin’s rejection. He’d already moved on. Merlin had barrelled ahead without even pausing to make sure Arthur still wanted this. 

His panic was turning to nausea when his phone buzzed on the bedside table. He’d forced himself to get in bed, determined not to pace in wait like a lunatic. He grabbed the phone and opened the text. 

_With Lance and Gwen. Be home soon_.

Merlin laughed with relief into the dark. 

_I’ll be waiting_ , he wrote back.

He lay back and drifted.

~o~O~o~

“You awake?” Arthur whispered as he pushed the door open.

“Mmm.” He hadn’t been. The digital clock said it was five after two in the morning. He’d been asleep for at least a half hour. “Yeah,” he sniffled.

Arthur hummed in amusement. “Yeah, right.” 

Merlin heard him kicking off his clothes, and then the mattress sank and Arthur’s warm body stretched out next to him. “Go back to sleep. We can talk tomorrow.”

Merlin was on his back and slowly returning to full consciousness. “No,” he said. “It can’t wait.”

Arthur turned on his side and Merlin turned too, meeting him with foreheads close. “What is it?”

Merlin wanted to touch him but was afraid to reach out, still afraid of rejection. “I want to do this. Be with you.” His voice wobbled embarrassingly, and he hoped Arthur’s eyes hadn’t adjusted to the dark.

His breath was shallow as he waited for Arthur to speak, the silence making him want to hide under the covers. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. I told Mum. And Gwaine. And Gwen. Well, Gwaine and Gwen guessed, or knew, or whatever. But…fuck. I’m sorry, I should’ve talked to you first. Are you angry?” Merlin spoke fast, ashamed of his own behaviour and desperately hoping Arthur would forgive him.

Arthur laughed. “Wait. Wait. Slow down. You told your mum?” 

“Yeah, tonight.” Arthur’s hand reached Merlin at his sternum and his palm flattened against Merlin’s skin. “Is that okay?”

Arthur was silent for a moment and Merlin’s heart stopped. And then Arthur’s fingers flexed against Merlin’s skin.

“It is. I mean, I take it as a good sign that I haven’t been tossed out yet. Are you okay?”

Merlin breathed. “Yeah, I am.” He reached out then, cupped Arthur’s cheek, and pressed their foreheads together. “I’m so sorry. I never wanted anything but you. It seemed impossible, but I think we can do it. I mean, if you still want to.”

Arthur’s mouth pressed into his cheek and Arthur licked down his jaw, lips trailing down to his neck. “Yeah,” he said. “Yes.”

“I was afraid.” Merlin’s eyes blurred and for a moment his own words brought him back to lower Manhattan and the terror he’d felt when he thought Arthur was lost to him. He chased Arthur’s lips with his own to dispel the memory.

“I know,” Arthur whispered, and he kissed Merlin deep and slow, showing him what love is and why it’s too beautiful to hide from.


	4. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

**August, 2013  
London, UK**

Meriln’s eyes burned with exhaustion. The Heathrow Express challenged his commitment to public transport, especially after the flight from Singapore. Gwaine would’ve picked him up. Instead, he sat in the stuffy train car with his luggage and poked at his mobile trying to get some service.

Faced with the Tube at Paddington station and the two suitcases he was hauling, he gave up and hailed a cab to the hotel in Holborn. There was a note for him at reception from Gwaine with the address for a pub and _7:00 pm_ scrawled in messy black ink. Merlin checked his watch and sighed as he followed the porter to the lift. Two hours. He needed a night’s sleep before he’d be ready for whatever Gwaine had in store. In two hours he’d barely be presentable.

In his room, he stretched out on his back and unbuttoned his shirt, letting his arms splay out so his spine could lengthen after so many hours tucked into an airplane seat. It’d been a long two weeks of travel.

After a half hour on his back, Merlin forced himself up and into the shower. He was achy and a little needy, having gone too many days without touch. He let his hands linger over his cock as he washed himself, but decided he was too tired and too tight on time to do anything about the nascent arousal. 

An hour later he made his way through a crowd of revellers at a pub in Soho and found Gwaine and Percy tucked into a booth in the back. “There’s our famous lecturer!” Gwaine called as he approached. 

Percy stood and shook his hand and Gwaine pulled him away for a hug. He hadn’t seen them in over a year. They looked well, both of them. Something had settled in Gwaine in the last few years. He’d matured, but he’d also slowly retrieved some of the softness he’d had before Iraq and Afghanistan. Percy was a good influence, strong and steady and kind. They’d settled in London, and Gwaine had gotten a job teaching mechanics at a vocational college.

“So, you’re off to Spain tomorrow?” 

Merlin nodded. “Yeah, just a short stopover here.”

“I’m glad you could meet us at least,” said Gwaine. “Maybe next time you’ll stay awhile. Don’t you get homesick?”

“For where?”

“England? Wales? Whatever.”

“New York is home,” Merlin said. “And I do get homesick. I’m on the road too much these days.”

He was tired and lonely, but he stuck out a couple hours at the pub, enjoying the easy warmth of Gwaine and Percy’s attention. 

When he got back to the hotel he stopped at the reception desk. “Any messages for me? I’m in room 620.”

“Just a moment.” The man at the desk scanned his computer screen. “I see your husband checked in about an hour ago. No messages.”

Merlin smiled and thanked him.

The room was dark when he let himself in, blackout curtains erasing any shadow or nuance from the space. He quietly let the door shut and toed off his shoes, feeling his way in the dark for the bed. He bumped into a lounge chair and stopped there to shed his T-shirt, trousers, and socks. The air outside was hot for London and the AC was running.

The sound of a body turning on the bed oriented Merlin and he made his way towards it, his shins hitting before he crawled up the mattress. He met Arthur’s outstretched arms and curled himself into them, sliding his knee between Arthur’s thighs. “Mmm, you feel good,” Arthur said, his voice thick, just out of sleep.

“Sorry to wake you,” Merlin said, and he sucked a kiss into Arthur’s bare shoulder. 

“Nonsense. I’ve been waiting for you.” Arthur ran a hand up Merlin’s chest and over his shoulder, then pulled him in for a proper kiss. Arthur’s mouth was home in the dark, warmth that slotted everything into place. Merlin let out a soft hum of pleasure, and the arousal from that afternoon caught up with him quickly. “I’ve missed you.”

Arthur nuzzled behind Merlin’s ear, that spot he loved to tease. “Me too,” Merlin said.

They lay like that, quiet. 

“Did you end up seeing Morgana?” Arthur asked, voice groggy.

“No, I missed her. She left me a message last night. One of the kids had a fever and Leon is away for work, so she couldn’t get to London. She said she was sorry to miss us both.”

“Hunith sends her love, said you’d better get home in one piece.”

Merlin laughed. “I’m fine now.”

Arthur poked a finger into Merlin’s ribs. “I told her I’d take care of you. She worries.”

“Gwaine and Percy were hoping to see you, but our flight’s so early. We could try in the morning, if you wanted.”

“Maybe on the way back from Spain.”

Merlin let his fingers play up Arthur’s arm, enjoying the touch and internally repeating the gratitude he felt. “God, do we really get a holiday?”

Arthur huffed. “Seems unlikely, doesn’t it?”

“You’re going to end up getting called in to write a treaty, I just know it. The thing with the Basques is going to get ugly, and you’ll get called in. Abandon me on a beach somewhere.”

Arthur laughed and squeezed Merlin tight. “The Basques? You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“No, but you know what I’m talking about, and that’s all that’ll matter to the Basques.” 

Arthur dug his fingers into Merlin’s ticklish waist until he yelped. “No wars, death, or destruction this week. Just us.” He released Merlin’s waist and slid his hands up to Merlin’s shoulders. “C’mere, Mister,” he said, hauling Merlin up for another kiss. He let his tongue slip over Merlin’s and breathed into Merlin’s mouth.

“The guy at the reception desk downstairs called you my husband.”

He felt Arthur smile against his cheek. “I am your husband.”

“I know. It’s still pretty cool.”

Arthur snaked a hand into Merlin’s boxers and wrapped his fist around Merlin’s cock. Merlin let his head fall to Arthur’s shoulder and exhaled raggedly. He’d been waiting for this for weeks. “So good, Arthur.”

Arthur wanted Merlin inside him. They made love face-to-face, Arthur falling apart under Merlin, cursing and telling Merlin he loved him in the same breath. And Arthur had loved him, steadfastly, from the beginning. When Merlin came, he called Arthur’s name, the person he’d chosen and chose every day to keep him present and make him fit in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Story notes:
> 
> 1\. The channel in the opening scene is a real place I have been, but I can't for the life of me verify what it is called. I believe it's at South Bay Beach on Cape Breton, but I haven't been able to find a picture to be sure and I haven't been there in over 30 years, so.  
> 2\. This story crosses cultures/countries and so I had to make some difficult decisions about UK v. US English. I went with UK spellings because it’s the Merlin fandom, and I rationalized that Merlin would have come to the US at 10 having already learned to spell. I figured he’d prefer the UK spellings ☺ My awesome brit-pick helped me with language for Arthur and Hunith’s dialogue and then I went with a hybrid of UK and US vocabulary. Some of the choices were fairly arbitrary, and some were intentional (e.g., backpack v. rucksack, I figured Merlin going to school in the US would have to adopt the word “backpack”, while household words I assumed would be taught by his mothers, so wardrobe instead of closet, etc.). The hybrid is highly imperfect and I hope it didn’t take anyone out of the story, whatever your first language may be.  
> 3\. I’ve taken some liberties with the British school year to get Arthur to New York by mid-June. He would likely not have finished his university semester until late June or early July.  
> 4\. I have no idea what interns at the UN get up to. I tried to do a little research but didn't learn much, so everything is fabricated. I’ve had friends who have worked in various capacities for the UN, but long ago and my memory is vague.  
> 5\. I barely scraped through the high school science curriculum so apologies for any failure to capture Merlin’s education accurately. I’m sure I’ve got something wrong.  
> 6\. I wrote the scene at the movie theater before Angelina Jolie announced that she’d had a double mastectomy. I nearly removed the reference to her boobs as a result, but given the characters and the setting it felt realistic. I have incredible respect for her and her work (primarily with the UN). I also confess I actually went to see the first Tomb Raider movie in the theater with my then-girlfriend, who, as far as I could tell, was mostly there for Angelina’s boobs. So, you know, I left it in.  
> 7\. I’ve written about places I know (apart from Cardiff), and for the most part, geography is accurate. However, when reality didn’t suit, I took slight artistic license with it.  
> 8\. I had extremely mixed feelings about writing a depiction of September 11. I was in New York City that day and saw a lot of what Merlin sees in this story. However, I was in the East Village and West Village for most of that day, not as close as Merlin and Arthur are in the story. From friends who were that close when the planes hit, I know I’ve not really captured what it was like. I heard the first plane hit, saw the second plane hit, and watched the towers fall with my own eyes. I saw the fire and breathed the smoke and did walk fairly close to where Merlin stops at Church and Warren, but only later in the day. I wrote from memory, rather than video, and I expect there are terrible inaccuracies in what I’ve written. I truly hope that it causes no pain to anyone (apart from the intentional weight of it in the story). There is no way to write about such a thing without risking hurting someone with it, but in the end I felt like it belonged in the story so I can only hope it works. I mostly want to acknowledge that it is fiction as I’ve written it.  
> 9\. I chose the schools I chose for Arthur and Merlin on purpose, and in part because of what they offered academically for the characters. However, I’ve taken artistic license sending Merlin to NYU for a semester—I’m not aware of any such arrangement between NYU and Harvard. Also, the dorm on Washington Square Park probably doesn’t exist anymore. There were student dorms there decades ago. I went to NYU for graduate school so I have some sense of the campus, but I’m fairly certain that prime real estate is no longer used for dormitories. Graduate student housing at NYU is minimal and most students live off-campus…so, you know, that is mostly fabrication as well.  
> 10\. Splash, the gay bar that Merlin and Arthur go dancing at, has recently announced that it’s closing ☹  
> 11\. It is legal for first cousins to marry in 25 US states (according to my research), including New York and Massachusetts, both states that now allow same-sex couples to marry. So, theoretically, Merlin and Arthur could legally marry in this story.


End file.
